


Short straw

by PaintOnTheSky



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Albus Dumbledore Lives, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, Romance, Severus Snape Lives, Sirius Black Lives, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:28:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 85,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28096185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintOnTheSky/pseuds/PaintOnTheSky
Summary: Hermione Granger and her best friends are spending their last summer holiday at Grimmauld place 12, and beg for the Order to give them something useful to do. When they are presented with a list of chores, no one wants to help professor Snape with potion brewing. Hermione draws the short straw and ends up being Snape's lab assistant. The collaboration of the two of them sets unexpected events and feelings into motion that will eventually change the wizarding world.Mostly Hermione's POV (with a few short pieces of Snape's POV when necessary.)The story focuses on the slowly growing relationship between Severus Snape and Hermione Granger, and follows them to her last year at Hogwarts. It is mixed with the adventure of horcrux hunting. While the relationship blossoms while they are still a student and teacher, Hermione is of age by the time anything happens between them (actually 19 because of the time she aged using a time turner).If you do not like the pairing, please do not read.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 232
Kudos: 366





	1. Short straw

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Neither the world or the characters are mine, I merely borrowed the to have a bit of fun. When I am finished, I will return them slightly used.  
> \-----  
> The world is AU.  
> In Order of the Phoenix, Sirius gets severely wounded, but he lives. I do understand that Rowling had to remove Harry's father figure to force him to grow up, but I wanted to give Harry a break and the two of them a chance. All other cannon events are followed.
> 
> In Half-Blood Prince:  
> \- I refuse to believe that the greatest wizard of the 20th century and the greatest manipulator of wizarding history, who put a plan in place that came to fruition in nearly two decades, would be impulsive and careless enough to put on a ring with a very obvious horrible curse on it. Never happened.  
> \- I refuse to believe that the cunning Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore could not find a way out of an unbreakable wow in a full year. If nothing else, bring him to a clinically dead state and bring him back with muggle means. Draco's task was to kill him, and not "kill him and make sure he stays dead, and do not resuscitate him". So the headmaster lives.  
> Without the death of the headmaster the takeover of the Dark Lord is a lot slower in the Ministry too.  
> \- At the end of the year Snape is forced to give up his DADA position, because Slughorn quit, and no one else is willing to take the potions position. Snape keeps his position as double agent.  
> \- Draco will return to Hogwarts for a final year for his own protection.  
> \- While I do not think that Snape and only Snape would make a good match for Hermione, I do think that she and Ron are a terrible match. I accept from the cannon that they tried to date and they were jealous of each other, but when I pick up the story I take that they have already agreed that they are better off as friends only, as their needs, goals and personalities are too different. There will be no Ron bashing.  
> \- Rest of the cannon is accepted and followed.
> 
> The deathly Hallows:  
> I would love to be able to forget this book exist. I think Rowling created a wonderful world with awesome charters, and the culmination of the the great story is poorly executed, both plot-wise and writing-style-wise. 
> 
> I do not labor under the delusion that I am as good of a writer as Rowling, but I will attempt to borrow her characters and world and write an ending I like better. Yes, I know, a HG/SS pairing is very unlikely as canon, but hey, they are my favorite ship, so there you go.
> 
> \----  
> Warning:
> 
> \- The focus of the story is a romance between Hermione Granger and Severus Snape.  
> If you do not like the pairing, please do not read. Please do not complain about their age difference. Even in the real, muggle world, there are plenty of relationships with large age gaps that work perfectly fine. It does not depend on the age, it all depends on the personality and maturity of the couple.  
> \- Hermione is of age in the muggle and wizarding world too by the time anything happens between them. (Actually, she is already 19 because of the extra time she aged using her time turner regularly, sometimes to attend three classes at one.) Absolutely no underage romance.  
> \- Their relationship blossoms while she is finishing her last year in school and they are still student/teacher.  
> If this bothers you, please do not read.  
> In real life, a student/teacher romance is not acceptable under any circumstances. This, however, is just fiction, and no one is hurt. Again, if you do not like it, please do not read.  
> \- There will probably be a bit of Albus bashing, but not too much.
> 
> \---
> 
> Looking for a beta reader
> 
> \---  
> Comments and constructive criticism is always appreciated!

Hermione glanced down at a list of tasks in front of them, and had a nagging suspicion that whomever came up with the ideas on it was trying to discourage them from joining the Order instead of trying to give them something actually useful to do. She had a feeling it may have had something to do with how they have ganged up on Mrs Weasley a day ago.

_“Now, Harry dear” Mrs Weasley said admonishingly. “I know you want to help, but you are still too young to join the Order. Harry folded his arms, looking mutinous._

_“There must be something we can do, even without joining the Order. It’s just… others are out there, risking their lives for us, and I am sitting here, twiddling my thumbs. At least last year we could help clean out the house, not that it was fun, it was not much, but it was_ something. _”_

_“We are going completely mental, just sitting in here, kept it the dark, mum” Ron agreed._

_“Just mental” Fred agreed._

_“Completely bonkers” Gorge loftily, trying to channel Percy._

_“Absolutely crazy.”_

_“Out of our minds.”_

_“Beside ourselves.”_

_“Totally unhinged”_

_“Absolutely lunatic.”_

_“Downright demented!”_

_“That is enough” Molly cast a sideway glance at the twins._

_“Besides” Harry continued. “Professor Dumbledore has been giving me private lessons and tasks. I am already involved, even if not officially. And it is no secret that You-know-Who already wants us dead. It is not like we are getting into any more danger.” Hermione was impressed how much Harry has changed since last year. He sounded calm, and even refrained from using the name of the dark wizard to keep the Weasleys more comfortable. “Please Mrs Weasley, there must be something we can do.” Molly kept looking from one determined face to the other , then sighed with defeat._

_“All right. I will talk with the rest of the Order, and we will try to come up with some tasks you can help with.”_

And true to her word, she supplied them with a list of chores, which unsurprisingly did not make any of them any happier.

“De-weeding, digging up the garden of the headquarters, building a greenhouse and planting potion ingredients” Ron red out disdainfully. “Pass.”

“Helping to clean the new safe house of the order” Harry muttered. “It kinda makes me feel like I was back at the Dursleys again. Pass.”

“Helping Hagrid to muck the thestral stables” Fred grimaced. “Why would he need help with that? Also, hard pass.”

“It is obvious, isn’t it?” Hermione asked. When the boys looked back at her with confused expressions, she continued. “Professor Dumbledore has been sending him out on missions regularly, hoping to contact other sentient magical creatures, like giants, centaurs, mermaids. He must feel that Hagrid being a half giant would give him a leg up with it. Thus, he probably does not have that much time to care for all the beasts at Hogwarts.”

“Makes sense, I guess” Ron shrugged, returning to the list. “Sorting a 16th century dark library on cursed artifacts, confiscated from Malfoy manor” Ron shuddered. “This makes scooping up poop sound like fun, at least in Hogwarts we can use magic.”

“Actually, that library sounds absolutely fascinating! Just imagine all we could learn from it” Hermione piqued up, pulling the list in front of her.

“Not to be a downer, Hermione, but you really should not touch any of those book” Ron said gently. “In the 16th century witches did not have many rights, it is more likely than not that there are wards, charms and curses on the books preventing a witch from reading it. Also if it comes from Malfoy, it probably has other spells, well, against...”

“Muggleborns” Hermione finished with a dejected sigh.

“I hate to say it, but Ronnikins is right” Fred added.

“Yeah Won-Won has a point” George piled on it. “I think only a wizard from a long standing magical family should touch those” the twins exchanged a glance, considering their small group. “Not it” they cried out together.

“No… what? No!” Ron looked desperate. “I don’t want to be stuck in a library in the summer…” The twins exchanged a high-five.

“Oh, the horror of being surrounded by books” Hermione said flatly. Harry sniggered.

“Easy for you to laugh” Ron retorted. What is the last option?”

“Can’t be any worse than these” Harry remarked with a grin.

“Helping Professor Snape to brew…” she could not even finish reading ‘potions’, when there was a choir of “Not it” from Fred and George. They exchanged a high five, Harry looked downright ashen.

“Bet you envy me and my books now, Harry” Ron chortled with glee.

“I do not want to be stuck with Snape in the dungeons” he said petulantly.

“Professor Snape” Hermione corrected him automatically. “And neither do I.” She had no problem with having to brew potions, but she did not feel like putting up with the constant and obvious disdain of the potions Master either.

“There is only one way to decide this” Fred said solemnly. “Forge, are you thinking what I am thinking?”

“I think so Gred.”

“Butterbeer-pong!” They shouted in union. Harry grinned. They all knew she was rubbish in any kind of ball game.

“No fair” Hermione protested. We should do something that gives us an equal chance.”

“We could draw straws” George suggested with a shrug. “Whomever draws the short one will help the overgrown bat of the dungeons.”

“Then we play butterbeer-pong for the fun of it” agreed Fred.

“I can agree to that” said Harry.

“You do not need my opinion” Ron said with a grin. “I will be safely sorting through horrible books.”

“Actually, sorting through a library suddenly sounds like a lot of fun” Gorge remarked.

“Who knows, we could use some new ideas for the joke shop” Fred added. “I think everyone needs a chance to be included in the fun of extra Snape time, even Won-Won.”

“Professor Snape” Hermione corrected him automatically.

“I get the straws, you get the butterbeer?” George addressed Fred.

\---

Hermione was looking at the short straw in her hand none too happily, though she was not the only one disappointed in the distribution of the tasks.

“Come on, I really wanted to muck out those stables” Ron begged. “Switch with me?” Then again, brewing potions did not sound quite as bad as helping Hagrid.

“No can’t do, Ronniekins” Fred grinned. “It is an opportunity to collect all kinds of ingredients for the joke shop. You enjoy your books.” The twins exchanged a high five. Harry seemed downright happy with his gardening duties. “So, did someone promise us butterbeer-pong?” he asked.

\---

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon immersed in a book she found in the Black library (The most effective combinations of curses and potion), while the boys kept playing butterbeer-pong. Even though the book was rather dark, she was amazed at the possibilities of potion-triggered curses and charms-triggered potions. She marked one of the pages she thought could be useful for the order: a potion that could be used for disguise, and activated later with a wand. Polyjuice potion was great, of course, but it had a tight time limit and it was suspicious to drink from a little flask or potions vial in public.

When the Order meeting started, they attempted to eavesdrop on what was being said, but someone has set up some really effective wards against extendable ears – she suspected Professor Dumbledore. Hermione had found a nifty little charm that would analyse wards and make them visible. It was a complex piece of work- she was itching to learn more about how to layer them together. She had a strong suspicion that some of them were linked together, and one would trigger another.

Ron has found an eavesdropping charm somewhere, which he was eager to try, but Hermione talked him out of it. She was no expert on wards, but from what she understood one of the triggered charms would make leak grow from his ear.

“Wow, this must have been a big event” Fred whispered as they watched the order members file out from the kitchen. “Nearly everyone is here.”

“Moody, Tonks, Lupin… even Snape” Ron added. “They look rather… haggard. It must have been some bad news.”

“Hermione, try to distract Snape” Harry said grabbing her shoulder, ignoring her correction of ‘Professor Snape’. “I will try to get Sirius buttered up with some firewhiskey and see what I can get out of him. Last time Snape caught me out on it, and put an end to it.”

“But what could I say?” it was the summer holiday, they had no homework to write and no projects to work on.

“Well, you will be brewing potions with him. Try to keep him talking as long as you can.” He grinned, stomping down the stairs. He headed straight for Sirius, trusting she would do her own part. With a heavy feeling settling in her stomach, she headed towards professor Snape. She was a Gryffindor after all.

“Excuse me, Professor Snape, sir.” He turned towards her, looking down his long nose.

“What do you want, Miss Granger” he asked impatiently.

“Well, we asked Mrs Weasley if there was anything we could do for the Order to help” she started to explain, wringing her hands.

“I am sure she will be able to provide you all with a task that fits your capabilities, like dusting shelves” he interrupted. Hermione blushed with anger.

“Mrs Weasley let us know that you needed assistance in brewing some potions for the Order, sir. I am more than capable. I wanted to offer my help, professor.”

“You sound very sure of yourself, Miss Granger. What makes you think you are up to the task?” he asked lifting an eyebrow at her. She has always found the gesture impressive, and made herself a mental note to try to learn how to do that.

“According to the Hogwarts archives, I have the highest OWL scores in potions in the last eighteen years” she pulled herself to her full length. That would have been probably more impressive if she had been taller, or if she had that nifty eyebrow trick. She conveniently forgot to mention that Snape had a much higher score, and currently held the record for the last fifty-two years. Still.

“Miss Granger, I am working on complex potions and projects” he said condescendingly. “Not simple little brews a third-year student could make. You have yet to show any special aptitude for potion-making in my class. “ Hermione would have loved to shoot back that the standard of her potions education was really not her own fault, but even when Snape could not take points or assign detentions this did not seem like a smart move. She would not let her temper get the better of her. “What was the most complex potion you have successfully brewed?” he asked.

The answer was, polyjuice potion, in her second year. It was way beyond NEWT level, but for obvious reasons she could not name that one. She chewed on her lips, thinking. She could not name something made in class, it would not impress her professor much. “Well, I did make wolfsbane potion for professor Lupin last month” she said eventually. “He said it did help him a great deal, even if it was not quite as effective what you brewed for him while he was teaching at Hogwarts.”

“Naturally, if you just followed a recipe from a book” he drawled. “Potions that are affected by the changes in the moon cycle, such as wolfsbane, need the simmering time and stirring adjusted using an astronomy calculation” Hermione wished she had parchment and quill with her with her to take notes. “Care to guess why?” The question felt like a test. She creased her brow in concentration, eager to puzzle out the answer herself.

“If the moon has an effect on the potion, the effect would change with the position and distance” she mused. “And the relative position of the moon would be influenced by the other planets, their gravitation having a larger or smaller effect. I would guess the position of the sun would be of the most importance, but the closer planets could pull the moon slightly in one way or another. This would mean a longer or shorter shimmering time to balance out the effect of the sun?”

“Correct in essence, if overly simplified” he drawled. That sounded like a high praise coming from the potions master.

“And the stirring would… counter the effects of the other planets?”

“In essence, yes.” Hermione’s heart leapt with joy at her sudden understanding. She always loved the intoxication feeling of discovery, when pieces of knowledge fell into their places like pieces of a puzzle. “This would also explain why fertilizer potion recipes contain such a wide range of different shimmering times and stirring requirements. Or the seaweed potion, which is tied to the sea, which in turn is…”

“Indeed” he cut into her musing. Excited, Hermione continued.

“Please, sir, would you show me how to do the adjustment calculation?” she asked eagerly. She wanted to try wolfsbane again, hoping to get it right this time.

“Are you this eager to spend your days locked up with me in a dungeon?” he took a step closer to her, trying to intimidate her by looming over her smaller form. She did grew an inch in the last year, but the potions professor was still more than a head taller than her, and she had to strain her neck to look up at him. She did not give him the satisfaction of backing up though.

“I know you do not particularly enjoy my company, sir” she answered trying to sound more self-assured and calmer than she was. “However, if I can make your work faster or more efficient, even if only by cutting ingredients, it does help the order.” From this close up, she could see dark circles forming under his eyes. She realised that he must have been under a lot of pressure, with teaching, spying, brewing for the order and the hospital wing. He must have been exhausted. If she could give him a bit more sleeping time with her help, it would already help his chances of survival as a spy. “I would be happy to help however I can, sir.” When he did not react, she added softly “Please, sir.”

“Very well, Miss Granger” he relented with a sigh. Hermione was not quite sure how she went from offering to help to practically begging to be allowed to peel roots for him. He was such a master Slytherin. “You can assist me. Be in front of the potions lab here in the dungeons, tomorrow morning, eight o’clock, sharp.” His eyes travelled over her form from head to toe, and Hermione fought the urge not to blush under his critical gaze. “And do something with that rats nest you call hair, we do not want to add accidental ingredients.” She did redden at the mention of her unmanageable hair. “Wear something with tight sleeves to prevent your clothes from dipping into potions and ingredients, and closed shoes. Open sandals like those are an invitation to an accident.”

“Yes, sir” he nodded and turned, storming away with his robes billowing after him before she could say so much as ‘Good night’.

\---

Hermione was rooting around her trunk, trying to decide what to wear to the potions lab. Ron was laying on her bed, playing with a Chudley cannons yo-yo absentmindedly. Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed, excited.

“Professor Dumbledore will be taking me on a trip” Harry explained with a grin, dangling his feet. “We are searching for the next horcrux. He will pick me up tomorrow at nine, and drop Ron off at the library to sort books.” Hermione folded a pair of jeans and set it next to her trunk.

“Yeah… that is all I am good for. Sorting dusty books” Ron answered bitterly, his fingers scratching the paint off his yo-yo.

“Actually” Harry said turning towards his friend with a serious face. “Dumbledore hopes to find a few rare books on horcruxes in the collection. Something about tracking them down, which would be a pretty huge help.” He shot an apologetic look at Hermione. “He did say that it was rather unfortunate that you could not help, Hermione. Not safely, anyway, and if we had break all the wards before you could take a look, it would take a decade to go through them.” He turned back to Ron. “So what you will be doing won’t be ‘just’ or ‘only’, it will be essential.”

“It is still research” he whined, but without the previous bitterness in his voice. Hermione rolled her eyes while folding a couple of tank tops putting them on the ever-growing ‘no’ pile.

“Research is essential, Ronald” she chided him. “Without research, there is no innovation, no moving forward. No new, fast broomsticks. No new quidditch manoeuvres. No new magical jokes. No novel sweets. No…”

“Ok, ok, I get it” he said cutting her tirade. “But doing research is still boring.”

“I will never understand how you can sit over a chessboard for hours, trying to come up with a strategy, and find research boring” she shook her head. “Research is like… the game strategy of life. The key to unlock a mystery. The answer to question you never dreamed to ask, you never thought you needed to know. Each book is filled with possibilities, and looking over them can fill you with anticipation, maybe this will be the one. And when you find a reference to what you are looking for, a clue, the excited jump of your heart that fills you with adrenaline, makes your hand tremble and sends your mind spinning towards the solution. When pieces fall into their places and you suddenly see the whole picture, both filled with nervousness and hope and…”

“Wow, Hermione, you sound like Snape” Ron sat up, looking at her with a grimace.

“The delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses” Harry quoted, suppressing a laugh. “If he is in love with his cauldron, Hermione is love with her books.”

“But, you can’t legally marry a book” Ron said with fake worry on his face. “You might have to look for a wizard with a publishing company instead” he teased. Hermione threw a pair of rolled-up socks at his head.

“Stop acting like you were allergic to books” she laughed. “You will not get cooties from spending a few days in a library.”

“No but I may die of boredom” he grimaced.

“I don’t think it will be that bad” Harry offered. “You will be working with Lupin, he is pretty cool and relaxed. He even allowed me to have some firewhiskey last time we had a chat.”

“Now that would be cool.”

“Also, it could be worse” Harry continued. “You could be stuck in a room with Snape instead, disemboweling horned frogs or something.”

“I did not think I would ever say this Harry, but you can make research sound positively delightful” Ron grinned.

“I really do not think it would be that bad” Hermione threw a long sleeved, tight pullover on the bed. “At least he cannot dock points and give out detentions outside of the school.”

“That does not really make the greasy git any less scary.”

“I am with Ron on this one, Hermione. He only needs to look at you that way to destroy you. I sure as hell am glad he is our side in this war.”

“Professor Snape isn’t a git, he is just…” she was not quite sure how to defend the potions professor, and shrugged. “Besides, this is a great opportunity for us to learn.”

“Well, better you than me” Harry grinned. “I would rather face Voldemort again than take extra potion classes.”

“I think sooner or later you are going to get your wish, pal” Ron clapped him on the shoulder.

“Did you manage to get anything out of Sirius?” Hermione asked choosing a long sleeved shirt for the brewing, and started to fold her clothes back into the trunk.

“Not as much as I would have liked” Harry sighed. “There was an accident in the Ministry of Magic, at the department of Mysteries. It was a big hush-hush. They claim it was just a magical explosion, but Sirius thinks Death eaters have stolen something, and destroyed the room in their wake to make it look like as if whatever they took was also annihilated.”

“Does he know what it was?” Ron asked, throwing the rolled up socks back at Hermione.

“If he does, he is not telling, but to be honest, I do not think he does. “I think only professor Dumbledore and one or two Order member are in on it.”

“You do not think it might be another Prophecy, do you?” Ron asked.

“Unlikely” Harry said shaking his head. “For one, we have destroyed thousands of them. As another, when I told professor Dumbledore about the prophecy Trelawney made at the end of our third year” Hermione snorted at the mention of the divination teacher. “he said it was her second real prophecy. Unless there are other seers around, they took something else. But what?”

“I do not think even Rufus Scrimgeour knows what the unspeakables are doing” remarked Ron.

“Either way, I am not going to take off to the Ministry again like last year” Harry shuddered. Hermione traced the scar Mulciber has given her absentmindedly. “I will just have to trust professor Dumbledore that he does know what is going on, and that he will let me know what and when I need to know.”

Hermione did not say it out loud, but she hoped the headmaster has also learned from his mistakes.


	2. A cup of coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione brews potions and a cup of coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Neither the world or the characters are mine, I merely borrowed the to have a bit of fun. When I am finished, I will return them slightly used.  
> \-----  
> Looking for a beta reader  
> \-----  
> Comments and constructive criticism is always appreciated!  
> \-----  
> 

Hermione was standing in front of the dungeon door of Grimmauld place 12. She has twisted her unruly hair into a strict bun, chosen to wear a pair of muggle jeans and a long sleeved, white and pale purple checked shirt. She still had five minutes till eight, but in her books, if one was not five minutes early, they were already late. She could feel a complex set of wards humming on the door. She was both nervous and excited about the upcoming project with Professor Snape – he intimidated and scared her, but she was eager to learn the secrets of potion making he may decide to share with her.

A few minutes to eight she heard soft footsteps descending the stairs in her direction, and soon enough the potions master came into her view, his long black teaching robes billowing after him.

“Good morning, professor” she greeted him, trying not to sound too cheerful.

“Miss Granger” he answered, drawing his wand. He traced a complex pattern with it over the door, unlocking the wards.

“Sir… which potion are we going to brew today?” she asked politely as he opened the door.

“’We’ Miss Granger, are not going to make anything” he strode into the lab. There were several long tables, many of them holding piles of potion ingredients. The closest one held a cauldron with a half-finished brew shimmering in it softly, occasionally emitting orange bubbles. On the far side of the room there was another door, likely leading to the supply cabinet. “I, will be making blood-replenishing potion, dittany and burn slave. You, Miss Granger will be chopping ingredients” he gestured at one of the far tables, holding a large tray or daisy roots. The walls of the room were covered in shelves and cupboards, holding a selection of knives, cauldrons, books, stirring rods, beakers, cutting boards and other potion making tools. “What are you waiting for?” he snapped at her.

Hermione hurried to the table, and grabbed a knife and cutting board from the shelves. She pulled the first root in front of her, turning it around in her hand.

“Excuse me, Professor. None of those potions needs daisy root, and…”

“Are you questioning my brewing, Miss Granger?”

“No sir. I was just wondering what shape I should cut them in. Cubes? Slices? Julienne strips?”

“Cubes will be satisfactory.”

Hermione placed the root on the board and got to work. She was curious what professor Snape intended to do with the roots, but did not dare to ask. Maybe she will be lucky enough to see it for herself. When she was ready with the first root she grabbed the second one without a comment. Chopping ingredients was a boring and tedious job. Judging by the size of the cauldron professor Snape placed on the second table, they were making an industrial amount, well, whatever potion the root was for. She kept working in silence, cutting one root after the other, occasionally glancing up at her teacher. Come to think of it, she has never seen him brew a potion before, he never demonstrated techniques in class. She stole a look at him as he stood over the first cauldron, which obviously contained a half-stage burn slave. He sprinkled some powder into it, probably dried graveyard moss, and stirred the potion counter-clockwise seven times. The burn slave wasn’t an overly complex potion, but it did require a lot of attention to detail. He moved gracefully between the shelves and the cauldron, his hands performing a well-practiced, elegant dance. She kept chopping her roots, watching with a measure of envy how he made preparing the potion look easy. She wasn’t bad at potions, far from it. She had the concentration, focus and brains to do it well, but it felt strained, she had to put constant effort into keeping everything under control. Her face and palms would be sweaty, her hair curling like crazy from the fumes, and her hands cramping from non-stop stirring.

It felt like as if she was trying to learn a new dance, and she had to keep looking at her own feet to make sure to follow the correct steps, while professor Snape was like watching a ballet show, pure elegance. If he had smiled while brewing she would have believed that it was not only easy, but something fun and joyful to do. Though she doubted he would have liked to be compared to a ballerina. She had to stifle a laugh at the mental image of the potions master in a pink tutu.

After she was done chopping the roots, she had to peel a pile of Abyssinian shrivel figs, crush a bunch of knoll garlic cloves and count out 325 beetle eyes. They have worked in an easy, companionable silence. Once she was finished with chopping what felt like ten pounds of sorrel, she laced her fingers together above her head and stretched with a loud sigh. They have been working for hours.

“Would you like something to drink, professor Snape?” she asked. He looked up from the cauldron, waiting for her to elaborate “I am going to get myself a cup of coffee” she announced. “Can I bring you something? Tea? Water? Coffee? Lemonade? Something else?”

“A cup of coffee would be appreciated” he said before returning his attention to the brew.

“How do you like your coffee sir? Milk? Sugar?” he looked up again, raising an eyebrow at her as if it had been a stupid question. “Black, naturally.” Of course. Maybe the rest of the rumours were true too, and he slept in a coffin too. She suppressed a giggle, and walked up the stairs to the kitchen. Then again, she also took her coffee black, and unlike the rumours she never sleep with her books in bed. Not on purpose at least, though it did happen on rare occasion that she fell asleep still holding one. She wondered if one could accidentally fall asleep in a coffin.

She has set up the coffee maker, and while she was waiting for the water to boil, she placed cups on the tray, folded paper napkins on it, and dug out a metal cookie box from the cupboard to place a small butter cookie on each saucer. When the machine stopped dripping more black liquid into the jug, she poured a generous amount of delicious-smelling coffee in both cups, and levitated the tray downstairs.

When she arrived in the lab, Snape was deeply engrossed in his work. She did not want to disturb him, so she set the tray down on an empty table and watched in silence as he directed the chopped daisy roots into the giant cauldron in an arch with his wand. The potion was supposed to be the dittany and she knew the recipe, but daisy roots were not supposed to be one of the ingredients. She was probably witnessing one of the modifications he came up with. The potion bubbled in the cauldron, and after a few stirs it turned from a minty green to a deep ocean blue with a hiss. Satisfied with the result, he turned to grab one of the cups.

“Excuse me, professor” Hermione asked, readying herself to be told to mind her own business. “Could you please explain to me why you have added daisy root to the potion, sir?” He considered her for a second before answering.

“Dittany has a regretfully short shelf-life. Daisy roots can extended it by nearly five months” he explained.

“But sir, would daisy root not counteract the lace fly wings?” This time he took a sip of his coffee before answering. He pulled a face as if he had tasted something terrible, and Hermione wondered if she made a mistake with the coffee machine. “That is an astute observation. However, I have substituted lace fly wings with ladybug wings, and added fluxom seed to stabilize it” he explained.

“That is pure ingenious” Hermione got excited. “The fluxom seed would also enhance the bonding between the camomile and moonstone powder, and would make the solution thicker, easier to smear on the wound, less like to flow away.” Snape cock an eyebrow at the conclusion, which she took it as a sign of being right. “Well, not all Gryffindors are complete dunderheads” she said with a small smile, taking a gulp of her black brew, which in her opinion tasted excellent. She saw the corner of his mouth quirk up. She would have sworn it was almost a smile.

“Indeed. Only most of them.” Hermione took a bite of her butter cookie, thinking hard. “How did you calculate the correct amount daisy root to use, sir? According to the Ashwen principle of reaction and counter reaction, you would need something between seven and nine times as much as the camomile, but according to Günter’s law on stabilization it should not be more than three times as much.”

“By increasing the amount of camomile used, and decreasing the amount of ladybug wings I could balance those two at about five times of the amount of camomile. Are you familiar with the Horvath principle?” he asked, downing the last of his coffee with a grimace. He placed the cup back on the saucer, ignoring the cookie.

“I cannot say I am, sir.”

“I have an issue of Potioneer Monthly that has a detailed description that you can borrow” Hermione’s heart leapt with excitement. “In short, it says that if you wish to offset the ratio of bonding you need to change the ratio not only of the regents and bonding material, but also the reagents and counter agent. There is a rule of thumb for suggested ratios, but to get the best results it should be fine-tuned through experiment.”

They kept discussing potion theories for the next twenty minutes, and Hermione felt that she has learned more about brewing in a few hours than she did in a month at school. Snape seemed less tense, maybe because there was no time pressure on having to fit the curriculum in the two hours they had at school. Or maybe because there was no Neville to blow up his cauldron.

“I have one more question, sir” she said finally, turning to take the empty tray back upstairs, her eyes lingering on a mountain of beetles she would need to powder.

“Just one?” the corner of his mouth curved up in a not-quite smile. “Whatever will happen to the world, when Hermione Granger runs out of question?” he asked, leaning back against the counter.

“Well, just one, for now” she blushed. “Why do we keep preparing the ingredients by hand? Would it not be faster and easier to enchant a knife to do all the cutting by itself?”

“Granger, think” he said folding his arms. “What would happen if a muggle tried to create a potion?”

“Nothing, they might poison themselves in the process though. There would be no magic in the concoction.”

“Exactly. Even though they would be using the same ingredients, correct? So if the magic does not come from the ingredients, where does it come from?”

“The brewer” Hermione concluded. Thinking out loud, she continued. “Must come from the brewer handling the ingredients. Which means, if we used an enchanted knife, there would be no magic imbued in them, or maybe even worse, it would be the magic of the knife.”

“Indeed. Which is why you should return those cups to the kitchen, and continue with chopping, skinning, powdering ingredients.” Without waiting for a reaction, he turned back towards his cauldron and continued brewing. Hermione went upstairs, mulling over everything she had just learned. The rest of the day was spent in relative silence.

\---

Hermione bought herself a leather bound little book to take notes on all the potions she would be brewing with professor Snape, and to write down their discussions before she could forget them. She has read the article about the Horvath principle, and she found it fascinating, she dedicated several pages of notes to it in her book. The two of them have very soon fallen into a comfortable routine of chopping ingredients and brewing in silence, until Hermione would fetch them both a cup of coffee. The potions professor would answer her questions, urge her to think for herself, picking her mind with well placed questions, and small tidbits of data. Before she even realised it, they had been working every day for a week together. When she asked him what they would be brewing together tomorrow, to her surprise he said “Coffee.” At her bewildered look he elaborated. “Miss Granger, tomorrow is Sunday. We have been working hard this whole week, even I need a break from time to time. I suggest you make use of this break, and sped some time relaxing with your friends.”

Thus, Sunday afternoon found Hermione lazing in the back garden of Grimmauld place 12. Harry has not done much with the de-weeding, being nearly constantly dragged along with Albus Dumbledore on the horcrux hunt, but he did find enough time to maw the grass. Hermione was sitting on a blanket in shorts and a tank top, _The most effective combinations of curses and potion_ folded in her lap, and with an enchanted bottle of chilled pumpkin juice. Her best friends were laying on the blanket, enjoying a bit of afternoon sun.

“Without Remus I would have gone mental” Ron complained. He had been given the honour to call their ex-professor by his given name, and he did so each occasion he was given. “There is no end to the books, and some of them are just downright mean. They bite. They beat up clouds of dust enough to choke a hippogriff. The pages are hard to read, and some aren’t even English. Urgh.” He buried his face in his hands.

“That sounds actually pretty exciting” Harry countered. “At least something happens. So far, all we had done was apparate from one place to the other, wave a wand a bit, walk around and apparate again. I never expected horcrux hunt to be so boring. We really need that book on tracking them.”

“I wonder if it would be possible to make a tracking charm based on how a human tracking charm works” Hermione thought out loud. “I mean, a horcrux has a piece of the person, right?”

“Yeah, but… if we did that, and say it would work, the charm would pull us in different directions at once. One for each Horcrux, and one for Voldymoldy” Ron mused. “It would be hard if not impossible to focus on one direction, I imagine.”

“Also, don’t we need a hair from a person to make a tracking charm?” Harry asked lifting his hand in front of him to crate a shadow over his eyes. “And in case no one noticed, Voldemort does not have any, he is totally bold.”

“Does not have to be a hair, can be anything from him” Hermione answered. “Like… toenails or a chest hair” Harry snorted.

“I don’t think he has chest hair either.”

“Or hair from his balls?” Ron asked with a grin and Harry made some retching sounds.

“Stop, just stop! I do not want to now if he has any of that. Besides, even if he does, how do you imagine we would get some of it?”

“Well, Snape does report…”

“Professor Snape, Ron.”

“… to him regularly. Maybe he could get close enough, to, I don’t know, get a scale or something.”

“Yeah I can just see that happening” Harry grinned. “Ssseverussss, for your faithsssful ssservicsse you may asssk me for a boon” He hissed. “My Lord, I would be honoured to have a hair from your mighty balls” he tried to emulate Snape's baritone, but his voice was not quite deep enough for that. “Also” he continued in his own voice “even if he does have hair down there, why would he allow someone to pull one out? Do you have any idea how much that hurts?”

Hermione was laughing so hard, she started to tear up, but Ron crossed his legs and covered his groin area with his hands. “I really, really do not want to know” he said in a high-pitched voice. “But I do wonder how do you know.” Harry blushed.

“I had an accident with a zipper” he admitted. “I was… lucky. It was just a hair.”

“Ok, you know what, I changed my mind, I do not want to know. Lets talk about something less painful. How are the potions sessions going, Hermione?”

“You call that less painful?” Harry teased. “I would take the zipper, thank you very much.”

“Harry! It is not that bad at all” she said taking a swig from her pumpkin juice. “Its work, but professor Snape is not so mean spirited as in the classroom. He actually answers question without insulting me too much. I have learned quite a bit this week.”

“Sounds horrible” Ron commented. “But also something like you would enjoy. He sat up, took the juice bottle from her hand and took a sip too. “What were you making?”

“Mostly an array of different healing potions. I have actually been considering if there was a way to carry some of it with us all the time. I mean, we are at war, and we are prime targets” she took the bottle back, ready to another gulp, when Harry shouted at the top of his lung.

“CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” Hermione nearly dropped the bottle in her alarm, sprinkling juice all over herself. Her friends were laughing at the look on her face.

“Well, yes, something like that” she said trying to shake the droplets off her hand. Her heart was still hammering too fast, but she was also smiling with the boys.

“Sorry, ‘Mione” Harry grinned. “I could not resist. But I do think you have a point, we are kinda… adventure-prone.”

Hermione giggled at that. “I think Professor McGonagall put it like…” she screwed up her face trying to imitate her clipped Scottish accent “Why is it when something happens it is always you three?”

“Yeah, I think we should carry those potions. Some bezoars too” Harry agreed.

\---

Hermione had a vivid nightmare. She was trapped in a maze made of old shoes, trying to find the exit. The walls of the maze stunk, and they were teetering perilously. When she rounded a corner too fast and touched the wall of shoes, they toppled, nearly burying her in used footwear, and blocking her way back. She could not see or hear anyone, but she had an unshakable feeling of being chased. She kept looking for her wand, but her pockets were empty. When she looked down, she realised she wasn’t wearing any shoes – her shoes were somewhere in the maze, part of one of the wall sections, and she would not be able to leave until she found them. Panicked she run down one corridor of reeking shoes after another, her heart hammering in her chest. She rounded a corner, and suddenly she knew the monster chasing her has caught up to her. At the end of the passage something stepped into her line of sight. She could not make the face out, but the leg was skeletally thin, covered in scales, and sported six inch talon’s And it wanted shoes, but she had none to give. She screamed and woke with a start, sweaty, tangled in her bed-sheets.

She shrugged off the covers, looking around at the pale sunlight of dawn. She glanced at the alarm on her bedside table which showed 04:43. She dropped back onto the bed, and tried to go back to sleep, but her mind was reeling, busy thinking about potions, horcruxes, the upcoming school year, and damn Harry Potter, Voldemort’s chest hair. After a good fifteen minutes of tossing and turning, she gave up on sleep. She climbed out of bed, put some clothes on, grabbed The most effective combinations of curses and potion and headed downstairs. The house was dark and silent, only the soft snoring of Ron and the not-so-soft snoring of Sirius disturbed the early morning.

She headed to the kitchen, and started a pot of coffee. Everything was brighter in the light of the day, with a cup of good coffee and an exciting book. She poured herself a mugful, than settled in the chair at the end of table to read.

She was engrossed in her book that she did not even hear when the kitchen door opened and closed and Severus Snape walked in. She only raised her head from the book when she heard the kitchen cabinet door slam shut. To her surprise, professor Snape was standing in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He seamed to be dead on his feet, which explained why the master spy did not notice her. It did not bode well for her constant vigilance either, that she was caught so off guard. She was considering to greet him, but did no want to startle him. She watched with wide eyes as he sprinkled some kind of spice in his coffee, then went on to scoop three spoonful’s of sugar in it. He poured so much cream in the cup that there must have been barely any room for coffee. Was he under a spell? He proceeded to stir it a few times, then turned around, his lower back braced against the kitchen counter. His eyes were closed, and he inhaled the aroma rising from the cup contentedly. He drank the sweet beverage and his lips pulled into a smile so pure it made her heart ache.

When she made coffee for the two of them, he usually downed his brew with a sneer. She though it was a criticism for her coffee making skills, but his blissful look told another story. He just liked his coffee with a lot of cream, sugar and some kind of spice. For a moment she was horrified. What kind of a life did professor Snape live, if felt he had to hide even the way he liked his coffee? How much of himself did he have to keep bundled up and hidden away inside? How much of what he was on the surface was a lie? She could not imagine how anyone could live so tightly wound.

She must have made an involuntary sound, because his eyes snapped open, looking directly at her. Thunderclouds were instantly gathering on his brow.

“Miss Granger” his voice was an angry hiss. It frightened her much more than if he had been shouting. He slammed his coffee mug on the counter, some of the pale liquid sloshing over the side. “Pray tell, why were you spying on me?” His eyes narrowed, and he took two quick steps in her direction, towering over her. She looked up in his thunderous black eyes, and her hands grew sweaty with nervousness. He drew his wand, pointing it at her face.

“I am so sorry, Professor Snape” she whispered. “I could not sleep, and came downstairs to read. I was so lost in my book I did not notice you coming it. I only realised I was not alone when you slammed the kitchen cabinet shut. I never intended to spy on you.”

“And when you did realise you were not alone, why did you not say something?” his voice was dripping with venom.

“Excuse me professor, you looked so tired. I was wondering how to make my presence known without startling you, when you noticed me. I just… did not think startling you was… healthy.” She starting to wonder if he was going to obliviate her.

He slowly lowered his wand, looking somewhat deflated, a range of emotions conflicting on his face. Hermione has never seen him so expressive before, and she wrote it down to his visible exhaustion.

“Professor” she said carefully, afraid she might spook him again. “I will not tell anyone.” She swallowed before continuing. “If you tell me how you really like your coffee, I will prepare it that way next time, and you can enjoy it in the lab away from prying eyes. I have no intention of giving your secret away. Even if I did try, who would believe me?” Later, Hermione would tell herself, it was his exhaustion that made him share his secret. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a tight expression on his face.

“One puff of cinnamon, three spoonful’s of sugar, and as much cream as you can pour in without making it white” he answered. He turned to leave the kitchen. When he was nearly at the door, he looked back at her. “Miss Granger? I will keep you to your promise.”

“Professor?”

“What, Miss Granger?” his voice lacked his usual bite.

“I am rather tired, suddenly. Could we please start our brewing somewhat later? Maybe Half then?” She hoped it would give him enough time to sleep a few hours.

“Half ten is acceptable” he nodded solemnly. “Do not be late, Miss Granger.” He stormed out, leaving his half finished coffee on the counter. Hermione stood, and took a small sip from the cup. She grimaced at the toe-curling sweetness of the liquid, and poured it out into the sink. She made sure to remove all signs of the concoction from the counter, then washed the mug, and placed it on the drier rack. Perhaps, just perhaps, Snape had a good reason to hide his coffee preferences.


	3. Roulette Rumballs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Neither the world or the characters are mine, I merely borrowed the to have a bit of fun. When I am finished, I will return them slightly used.
> 
> \---  
> Thank you all for the kind reviews and kudos! It is greatly appreciated. <3

The next day Hermione was standing in front of the potions lab door nervously. She was terrified that the early morning interaction with professor Snape would ruin their budding working relationship, she desperately wanted the mini-lectures to continue. She was quite relieved when at nine twenty-five he billowed down the stairs looking like his usual surly self. He returned her greetings curtly, and opened the wards on the door. Before she could even take a step, he snapped at her.

“Get on with it, Granger, those tickle-pears won’t peel themselves.”

“Yes, professor” she scurried inside, keeping her head down. Neither mentioned the interaction a few hours before.

Hermione was glad to see that while he looked tired, he did not look quite as exhausted as five hours ago. That was not too much time to sleep, but going by the dark circles under his eyes, he was probably used to not getting much rest. She kept peeling the pears, daring to steal a glance at him only occasionally, she did not want to be accused of spying on him again. The silence stretched between them as they worked, but somehow it did not feel as comfortable as a few days ago. She peeled the pears, boiled some newt beans and smashed them in a puree, and extracted Transylvanian peas from their pods. All the while she half expected a personal attack from the professor, which never came. She was trying to tell herself that all was well, back to normal, but the butterflies in her stomach did not believe it.

After a few hours of work the silence started grating on her nerves. She laced her fingers above her head, and stretched, pretending normalcy.

“I am going to get us some coffee” she announced. Professor Snape never looked up from his work while she walked out of the room, trying to appear nonchalant, but her hands and feet were sweaty with nervousness and her knees felt weak. Why did this bother her so much? She was more worried than when she was waiting for OWL results.

In the kitchen she prepared two cups of coffee, one black, and one with a puff of cinnamon, three sugars and a lot of cream. She placed two butter cookies on the saucers, and levitated the tray into the dungeon, her heart beating way too fast.

When she arrived back the potions master was leaning over what seemed to be an astronomy calculation. She placed the tray on the nearest empty table, determined to let him take a cup of his choice. If he went for the black coffee, so be it, she would force that sweet concoction down, and never mention it again. Even if it makes the hair on her back curl with the sweetness. She was a Gryffindor, after all.

She stepped closer to the professor, hoping she might get the lecture she wanted on the astronomical calculation. He moved the sheet to the side so she could see it better. She was so nervous she felt like throwing up.

“Different potions need varying degrees of adjustments based on the lunar circle. Some are more delicate, and need more precise calculations with more planets involved, others are fine with rough adjustments. This particular potion is an eye-drop, that can be used against a variety of poisons, and rather simple to adjust, which makes it a perfect example to learn the principles.” When he started lecturing her, something tight in her stomach relaxed. “These little drawings in the corner of the potions recipe? They are not for decorations, they depict the difficulty of the adjustments needed. This here” he pushed a book in front of her with long, elegant finger” means you only need to account for the position of the sun, the moon and the nearest planet, which is Mars.” He rolled out a different parchment with several tables on it. “Once you calculate the correct angle and distance, you can use this table to look up the adjustments. The rows are the distance of the moon from earth, or, specifically, where you are, and the columns show the angle between moon, earth and sun. The intersection is the adjustment you need. I take you have passed you astronomy exams?” Hermione wanted to snort indignantly, who did Snape think she was? But went with a polite “Naturally, sir”.

“Well” he pushed an empty parchment and a quill in front of her. “Get to it, then.” Hermione was pleasantly surprised he would allow her to do the calculation. She grabbed the quill and started to scribble out equations. She could feel Snape watching her over her shoulder. She tried her hardest to ignore it, but his presence was like a burning consciousness in her mind, she wanted to prove she could do this, she wanted to show she was no dunderhead. She scribbled away, solving equations. When she heard the chink of a china, she glanced up from her paper to see the potions master taking a sip of his coffee. His face was an unreadable mask, but she saw that he has picked up the sweet beverage with the cinnamon in it. When he noticed her looking, he raised an eyebrow at her.

“Did you want something, Miss Granger?” She had to supress a very happy smile.

“No, sir.”

“Then I suggest you continue your calculation” he said in a detached voice.

Hermione turned back to her work, and felt tension seep out from her shoulders. Some warm, soft feeling was spreading out from her stomach. She realised that Snape has let her in on one of his secrets. Sure, it was a small, silly little secret, but he had such a tight, heavy armour in place constantly, that even a tiny peek behind those shields was a true gift, she was allowed to know just a tiny little bit, who Severus Snape truly was.

She has finished the calculations, and pulled the chart in front of her to look up the correct amount of simmering time. She scribbled the result on the parchment, and dropped the quill back into the ink.

“I am ready sir” she pushed the paper towards her teacher, and turned to pick up her own coffee. With a start, she realised the Snape’s butter cookie was also gone, for the first time since they have begun brewing potions together. So, he had a sweet tooth. Without remarking on it, she picked up her own cup and took a sip of the liquid, enjoying the rich aroma.

“The results seem to be correct” Snape was looking down his long nose at the paper, still holding his now empty cup. “If you are done with your coffee break, you may continue with chopping the zinger flower petals” he placed the china back onto the tray.

“Actually, sir. I was thinking... Could you please give me a more complex astronomy calculation? Just to practice.” He pulled up an eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth lifted in an amused smirk.

“Miss Granger, are you asking me to give you… homework?” Well, she would not have phrased it quite like that, but indeed, she was.

“I guess I am, sir.”

“Very well, You may redo the calculations for the wolfsbane potion. I will let you borrow the lookup table, but I do want it back tomorrow, unharmed.”

“Thank you sir” she beamed.

“And Miss Granger” he looked her in the eye seriously. “I do not want a litany or essay. I am willing to go over your calculation, but nothing more. Am I clear?”

“Crystal clear, sir.”

“Good, now get the china out of the way, and continue your work. These potions will not brew themselves.”

Hermione practically run up the stairs, her heart light as a feather.

\---

The afternoon found Hermione, Ron, Harry, the twins and Ginny sitting on Harry’s bedroom floor, playing exploding snaps. After a bit of cajoling from the boys, she had placed a bookmark in _The most effective combinations of curses and potions,_ chapter five: containing curses in potions, and decided to join them. One of Fred’s eyebrows was already slightly singed, and Ginny was comfortably nestled in Harry’s arms.

“So” Hermione asked carefully placing a card on the already tall tower. “How is the thestral stable mucking going?”

“Pretty well, actually” George answered. “I was able to collect all kinds of fun stuff for the joke shop. Thestral hair, arcomantula poison, niffler boogies…”

“Eww” Ron whined.

“…pixy dust, kawartu feather. This is a real gold mine!” When Hermione’s card did not explode she pulled back from the game, giving Harry room to place his.

“Sounds expensive. How did you get the arcomantula poison?” she asked. That was an extremely expensive potions ingredient, and after their run in with Arragog and Mosag, she could easily see the twins ending up and spider dinner.

“Well, there were some baby spiders that weren’t doing so hot, so Hagrid took them under his wing” Fred answered. “We want to make the best of the situation while it lasts, they already starting to grow too big to safely handle.” Harry added another card to the ever-growing pile, and made room for Ron.

“But how is it any use to you for new products, if you cannot get a steady supply?” Ron enquired, with a card in his hand.

“We have it all figured out. Next time we will take our little brother, Won-Won with us, and he can hold the twitching, hairy little spider in place while we…” Ron gave an uncontrollable shudder, turning pale. The card slipped from his fingers, and the tower exploded with a bang, filling the room with smoke.

“You did that on purpose” Ron accused George, once he stopped coughing in smoke.

“Of course” he grinned. “We always do everything on purpose.”

“Which reminds me” Fred continued, pulling out a bag from his robes. “We brought some snacks to enjoy” he offered the open bag to Ron. The younger Weasley peered into it suspiciously, then pulled out something that looked like a chocolate ball, and popped it into his mouth.

“Hmm, these are good” he remarked. “they taste a bit like rum.” He proceeded to suck his thumb and forefinger clean. George offered the bag to Harry next, who popped a sweet into his mouth, humming happily.

“What are these?” Hermione asked suspiciously when George pushed the bag under her nose.

“They are roulette rumballs” Fred offered.

“And what do they do?” she glanced at the innocent-looking little chocolates, refusing to believe that the snacks were merely what they seemed to be.

“Well, most of them do nothing. They are just tasty” George explained, pulling the bag away, and popping a treat in his own mouth.

“But about one in six of them, does do something” Fred added. “Thus the name. Roulette.” Ron leaned in and took two more sweets, offering one to Harry, who accepted eagerly. “They make your toenails grow six inches, or turn your hair pink, or make your skin look like you were covered in glitter, or give you a really high-pitched voice, or…”

“Or that” George pointed at Harry, who had a bush of hair rapidly growing out of his ears.” Ron was rolling over the floor with laugher, while Ginny tried to brush the hair out of Harry’s face, slowly extracting herself from his arms. Hermione could understand, all the ear hair was less than attractive and not one bit romantic.

“Is there an antidote?” Ginny asked.

“Nope, but you do not need one” Fred explained popping a chocolate in his mouth, offering the bag to Hermione again. She politely declined. “The effects last only about an hour, probably less” As he spoke there was suddenly light coming out if his mouth, as if he had swallowed a flashlight.

“Ha, that one is cool” Ron remarked. Fred pulled his lips back to show off the light streaming out between his teeth. There was a slight glow around his nostrils too.

“Are there no side effects?” Hermione asked wearily. She did not forget the stories Ron and Harry told her about the time the twins were experimenting with the skiving snack boxes, and the boils in the painful places.

“Please, Hermione, give us some credit” George sounded miffed. “We do not distribute untested stuff, it would be terrible for the business.”

“Yeah, we carefully test all of our new products first” Fred piqued in. “Mostly on ourselves. And Percy, when we can get away with it.”

“Well, no one would notice if he grew painful boils in delicate places” Ron sniggered. “He already acts like he had a broom stuck up his ass.” Ginny chortled loudly.

“I never assumed you would release something without testing” Hermione explained. “I was worried we were your guineapigs.” She watched as Ginny started to brush out Harry’s ear hear with her fingers. It slowly reached his shoulders. That was real love there, she thought with a disgusted shudder.

“I would never call you guys guineapigs” Fred protested.

“Yeah, guineapigs are smart and cute” George added. Hermione had to chuckle. She watched Ginny plate Harry’s ear hair while Fred shuffled a new deck of exploding snaps cards, and dealt a new hand to everyone.

\---

“Hogwarts letter are here” they heard the shout of Mrs Weasley from downstairs. Fred and George grinned at each other, and disapparated. The crack was followed by a high pitched scream of Molly, and a series of huffing and puffing sounds. Hermione did not need to see them to know that their mother was probably hitting the boys over the head with the letters in her hand.

The rest of them jumped up eagerly too. Ron and Harry stomped down the stairs at a breakneck speed, Ginny followed in an easy gait and Hermione hurried down the stairs at a safer pace. She was excited get her letter, to see the list of intriguing books she would need. She entered the kitchen. Mrs Weasley was surrounded by Harry and three of her kids, Fred and George still pestering her.

“Can we also have a Hogwarts letter, mum?”

“Maybe we will be made a head boy this year” Fred countered.

“We can take care of the ickle-wickle firsties…”

“…and teach them how to blow up a toilet!”

“Will-… you… stop… already…” Molly Weasley grabbed a wooden spoon and hit a twin over the head with each word. Fred and George drew back, with a chorus of ‘au, au… stop mum.’ The red-headed matriarch smiled up at the rest of the kids.

“Here is your letter, Harry dear” if she noticed the thick plate of ear hair growing on the sides of his face, she never mentioned it. “Maybe you should go and open them in the living room, I need to finish dinner here” she handed out an envelope to Ginny and Ron. “And the two of you” she looked at Fred and George with a stick, disapproving glance that made Hermione’s feet sweat “Stay away from the kitchen. I do not want to see you sneaking away anything from the fridge” she turned towards her, handing out the last letter to Hermione. “There you go my dear.” Hermione did not miss the look Fred and George exchanged behind the back their mother.

She took her letter, and followed her friends in to the living room. Professors McGonagall and Snape were talking animatedly next to the empty hearth. Her head of house looked up from her cup of tea as they entered.

“Well, don’t you look dashing, Mr Potter” she remarked. Harry blushed a crimson red, Ginny and Ron sniggered.

“That is quite a daring fashion statement, Potter” Snape added with a sneer.

“Do I want to know what you have gotten yourself into this time?” their head teacher asked.

“It was an experimental joke candy, professor, a roulette rumball” Harry replied, obviously embarrassed “The effects should be temporary” he glanced at his watch as Fred and George walked into the room. “Ear… it should have worn off more than an hour ago.” The twins immediately spun around, ready to retreat.

“Mr Weasley and Mr Weasley” professor McGonagall called after them. “Why do I get the feeling this has something to do with the two of you?” They turned around slowly, a silent conversation exchanged between them.

“Fascinating” professor Snape drawled. “One would think that after so many times of putting himself into mortal danger, Mr Potter would learn to look before he jumps. Griffiyndors” he sneered. Professor McGonagall ignored the comment.

“Do you have an antidote, Mr Weasley?” she demanded.

“I… well… the thing is…” George stuttered.

“It is not supposed to get stuck like that” Fred explained.

“It was such a weak dose…”

“Are you two telling me, that you have fed an experimental potion to Mr Potter without having an antidote at hand?” she asked in a clipped tone. The twins may have left school years ago, but they sure seemed like withering under the gaze of their ex-teacher.

“Yes…?” Fred said eventually in a weak little voice.

“But we could… pull the hairs out with pincers, one by one” George offered. Harry looked horrified.

“And will you be doing that for Mr Potter every day, till the end of his days?” Snape asked with a smirk.

“I really do not want anyone to be pulling out hairs from anywhere” Harry protested.

“Severus” McGonagall turned towards the potions master. “Would you please make an antidote for Mr Potter?”

“Whatever for, Minerva?” he sneered. “At least now there is a visible sign that Mr Potter has tuffs of hair for brains” he took a sip of his tea.

“Well, it would reflect poorly on Hogwarts if he was to continue his education like this” she gave her colleague a calculated look. “Why, some might think our potions master was unable to come up with a cure.” The corner of Snape’s mouth tugged up in a nearly-smile.

“Why, Minerva, how very Slytherin of you. Subtle as a erumpent in an apothecary, but decidedly devious for a Gryffindor. Fine, I will mix an antidote for Mr Potter. I will need the original recipe those two dunderheads used” he glanced at the twins with a raised eyebrow.

“We’ll get it, professor” George and Fred left a room in near panic, trampling over each other in their haste to get away.

Hermione walked to the nearest armchair, ready to open her Hogwarts letter. Ron threw himself into the one on her right with a groan, and Harry tore his envelope open unceremoniously where he stood. Something metallic fall from it, hitting the floor with a chink. He went to pick up the badge.

“I can’t believe it” he breathed. “I… I am head boy!” he exclaimed with a smile. “Can you believe it?” he asked turning towards his friends.

“Given the penchant of the headmaster to appoint untrustworthy and inept characters into positions of authority, such a Death Eater housing the Dark Lord in his head, a simpering idiot of a book writer, a flee-ridden, lunarly challenged bag of fur, a Death Eater in disguise, a vile piece of rotund pink mignon, the occasional Gryffindor bullies as prefects, I cannot say I am surprised” Snape said acerbically. Hermione wondered who was chosen as prefect and head boy the year he was in school.

“Mr Potter, I suggested you as head boy because I thought you have shown a remarkable amount growth in last time” the eyes of professor McGonagall lingered over the hair flapping around Harry’s ear. Probably that was not the growth she meant. “Do not make me regret my choice.” Hermione heard Ginny snicker ‘vile rotund mignon’.

Harry blushed again, casting his eyes on his toes. “Thank you professor. I will do my best” he muttered.

“If this is what Potters best is, we are all doomed” professor Snape remarked.

“I know you can do it, Harry” Hermione encouraged him. “We will be there if you need us.”

“An external brain to do the thinking for Potter might just be what we all need” the potions master mused. Hermione was not sure if it was a compliment to her, an insult to Harry, or a critique for professor McGonagall.

“Severus” the Gryffindor house head said without much heat. Her colleague just raised an eyebrow at her, but refrained from commenting further on the appointment of the head boy.

“That is really cool mate” Ron grinned. “Now you can sit with us in the prefects carriage. And use the prefects bathroom. Just wait till mum hears it, she will have a field day” he went to open his own envelope.

Hermione returned her attention to her own letter, and opened the seal on it. She shook the contents into her lap, and her eyes immediately went to a shiny golden badge. She lifted it with slightly trembling hands, her lips drawing into a wide, happy smile. She had dreamed of becoming head girl since the day she first entered the school.

“Hey, you too!” Ron beamed, looking over her shoulder. “Congratulations, ‘Mione! I knew it would be you!”

“Well, done, girlfriend” Ginny threw her hands around her from the other side.

“She looked up from her lap, still holding her badge. Professor McGonagall gave her a warm smile.

“Congratulations, Miss Granger. Well deserved, you worked hard for it.” Even professor Snape had nothing scratching to add, he merely lifted his teacup a fraction, as if to salute her.

“Thank you” she beamed. “I will do my best to be deserving of the honour.”

“This calls for a celebration” Harry added. “Someone get the roulette rumballs!” he grinned. When everyone threw him a cold stare, he protested. “Hey, it was just a joke, I wasn’t serious!”

Hermione unfolded the letter in her hand, which was the standard text to invite her back to Hogwarts for her final year. The Classes would start on Monday, September the first, and she is expected to take the Hogwarts express the day before. Her eyes quickly skimmed her timetable. Transfigurations, Charms, Potions, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient runes, Astronomy, History of Magic – she will have a rather full week, with little time to relax, but there was nothing she would have wanted to drop, so she will just have to deal with a tight schedule.

As last she unfolded her book list, scanning the titles. Apart from the usual textbooks, nearly all subjects had listed a book or two as an extra source of information and suggested literature. Her fingers were already itching to get her hands on _Useful everyday charms_ , _Human transformation_ and _Applied Arithmancy_. As her eyes moved down the list, she noticed there were a few extra titles scribbled at the end of the list, in a tight, spiky hand. _The theory of experimental potion development_ , _Numbers and brews_ , _A practical guide to experiment documentation and publications_. She smiled to herself, and it took all her willpower not to raise her head and look professor Snape in the eyes. She was fairly certain he would not want to advertise their working together, even within the Order.

“Can’t wait to go to Diagon Ally” Ron beamed. “I need to stack up on some skiving snack boxes and I…”

“Mr Weasley” professor McGonagall looked at her student over her glasses warningly.

“What I mean it, I can’t wait to get and read my schoolbooks, and I am in need of a new robe too.” Snape snorted into his tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and constructive criticism is always appreciated!


	4. Suprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Neither the world or the characters are mine, I merely borrowed the to have a bit of fun. When I am finished, I will return them slightly used.  
> \---  
> Comments and constructive criticism is always appreciated!

Hermione galloped down the stairs, her hands twisting her hair into a bun. She could not believe she overslept. She hoped if she was fast enough she might just make it to the door in time. She rounded the last bend in the stairs, and nearly careened into professor Snape. She threw herself to the side the last second, but she did loose her balance, and started tumbling towards the dungeon door. Her heart skipped a beat as the ground seemed to slip out from under her feet.

A strong hand with long, elegant fingers shot out, and grabbed her by her wrist, stopping her from falling. Professor Snape took one more step down the stairs, and pulled her up by her arm. When she was close enough, he grabbed her other shoulder with his other hand, and steadied her as gently as he could.

“I am so sorry professor” she breathed, her heart beating erratically. Her knees were still shaking slightly from the rush of adrenaline. “I overslept, and I did not want to be late, and…”

“And you thought that flying headfirst into a ward and breaking your neck would make you be on time?” he asked disapprovingly. Once he seemed to be reassured that her feet were firmly planted on the ground, he let her go. She blushed with embarrassment.

“I am sorry, professor. Thank you for catching me. I was just thinking…”

“Miss Granger, you clearly weren’t. Thinking, that is. Be more careful in the future, it would be a shame to waste your brains now that you seemed to start to understand how to use them.” She could not decide if that was an insult or a praise. “Are you hurt?” he asked looking over her.

Her wrist was somewhat sore where he grabbed her, but it was a small price to pay for not tumbling down the stairs. “I am fine, professor. Thank you.” He nodded and walked up to the locked door, drawing his wand.

“Actually, Miss Granger, I was considering teaching you how to lock and unlock these particular wards. Your work in the lab had been… satisfactory of late, and there might be days when I am not available to continue the brewing. I would want you to be able to come in and keep chopping, shredding and peeling.”

“Thank you, professor. That is… and honour” she said, and meant it.

“Very well. This particular ward unlocks with a nonverbal spell” he explained. “Both the wand movement and the incantation that you need to repeat in your head can be configured for the specific ward. This means, that a different pattern and different words will lock and unlock similar wards. Basically, like a password. In this case, the password is titillandus” Hermione recognised the Latin word from the Hogwarts crest. She thought it meant something like ‘to be tickled’ or maybe ‘should be tickled’. “The wand movement is like this. Down, a semicircle to the right and up, further right, and up with a twist.” He repeated the movement slowly with his wand a few times for her. “Now, your turn.”

She drew her wand and slowly repeated the pattern. “A little bit further down. Yes. Now, make the twist smoother, less sharp. Again.” Professor Snape made her repeat the pattern at least a dozen times before he allowed her to try to unlock the ward.

‘Titillandus’ she thought silently, while flicking her wrist in the complex pattern. She felt, rather than heard something like a click of a lock, and the insistent buzzing of the ward suddenly stilled and stopped.

“And now set the ward” the potions master instructed. He made her unlock and set the ward over and over before he was satisfied that she would be able to do it in a pinch, and ushered her inside.

There were no piles of ingredients waiting for her this time. “Today, we are going to attempt to mix an antidote for Mr Potter” professor Snape explained as he gracefully slid onto a lab chair. His tone made it more than clear that he thought the effort to be wasted time. He gestured at the chair next to him, indicating for Hermione to sit. Being so much shorter, she clambered onto it awkwardly. He pulled out a roll of parchment from his robes, and a clear viol that held a few black hairs, she suspected, torn from Harry’s ear.

“Now” Snape explained smoothing out the parchment with elegant fingers. “Read the recipe these two dunderheads have used, and tell me where you would start.” Hermione felt a warmth of pride spreading through her – the professor believed that might be able to do this, at least with some help. Her stomach did a flip; she wanted to prove him right.

“They used a common ashwood potions base” she pointed at some of the ingredients. “It is likely we should use the same for the antidote. These ingredients here and here, they would be stabilizers. I think the active reagents are the mugwort and the ashwinder eggs, so we should try to find a combination that would counter these.”

“Your conclusions are correct, however it is not so simple. First we need to reverse the bonding effect, otherwise we might end up removing all hair from Mr Potter’s body.” Hermione’s mind conjured the conversation she had a few days ago with the boys about Voldemort’s chest hair, and she had a hard time supressing a giggle. “Now, how would you begin that?” She chewed her bottom lip, thinking. “Chantarelle mushrooms, grave moss, and a pinch of salt to keep it from destabilizing. But grave moss cannot be used with an ashwood base” she mused.

“Which means, we need to choose a different base” he offered. “And your choice would be…?”

“It has to be a base of a higher exponent. Pinesap base would be acceptable, but it would react poorly with the mushrooms. The next exponent is mulberry base, but that’s really expensive. I think seaweed and aconite base should work” she looked up at him expectantly.

“It would, indeed. May I suggest though, to use an almond and fireweed base? Much easier and quicker to brew.” Hermione pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, and she started to jot down a recipe. They discussed the different quantities, the order in which to add the bonding and the and the active regents, did a quick calculation on the necessary shimmering time, and the preferred metal for the stirring rod.

Hermione felt she was positively on fire. She could not remember the last time she had so much fun, she was practically trembling with excitement. The recipe of the brew they would need to prepare was not overly difficult or complex, but it was not too straightforward either. Once professor Snape was satisfied with all the details, he pushed his chair back, and stood. “Now it is time to brew the potion” he announced. Hermione followed his suit, jumping off her chair.

“I will go get the ingredients, sir, and I will start chopping.”

“I think not, Miss Granger. This” he waved his hand at the paper “Is mostly your own recipe. Today, I will be doing the ingredient preparation, and you may do the brewing.” Hermione blushed with pride.

“I… thank you, sir” she stammered. “I will go get us some coffee while you prepare the ingredients.” She watched for a few seconds as he billowed down the room, heading to the ingredients storage. With a huge smile on her face, she practically flew upstairs.

When she entered the kitchen, Harry was sitting at the table, looking sweaty, and a bit of mud smeared on his face. Apparently he was working in the garden that day instead of hunting horcruxes with the headmaster.

“Hey, Hermione” he smiled at her, brushing wet hair out of his eyes. Someone had tied pretty little red bows at the end of the plates growing from his ear. “What makes you so happy?” he lifted a glass of lemonade and took a swig.

“Hey Harry” she beamed, taking out a new filter and placing it into the coffee maker. “I just come from the potions lab, and…”

“Ah, I would be happy too if I had a chance to escape the dungeon bat” Harry grinned.

“It is not like that!” Hermine shot him a dirty look. “We were actually working on an antidote for you, and I think we are finally ready to start brewing.” She ladled coffee onto the filter.

“Ah, thank you Hermione. It does mean a lot to me” he admitted. “I really do not wish to keep going around like this.”

“Well, it does not really add to your looks, unless you are interested in a female dwarf, they might like the extra hair” she giggled.

“When do you think the potion will be ready?”

“My estimate is two, two and a half hours. Why?”

“Well”, he said placing his empty glass back on the table. “I was hoping to be rid of the hair before my surprise birthday party starts” he explained.

“How did you…”

“Come on, Hermione” he laughed, smoothing his hair back. “Did you really think it would remain a secret with this many people in on it?”

“I guess not.”

“I think I still have just enough time to finish digging up the flower bed, take a shower, take the antidote, and be on time for the surprise” he beamed. He stood, and walked towards the garden door, clapping Hermione on the shoulder.

“Thank you, and good luck brewing. Do not let the greasy git get to you.”

“Professor Snape is not a greasy sit” she retorted, throwing a dirty glance at the retreating back of Harry. She finished making the coffee, added cinnamon, sugar and cream to Snape’s cup, and descended to the dungeon again, eager to brew.

True to his word, the head of house Slytherin did most of the ingredient preparation himself. Hermione was left staring in owe at the speed at which his hands chopped, cut and stirred. She had a feeling she would need a lifetime to catch up to that. She set up a cauldron and started to prepare the potion base. Professor Snape was following her movements with an intense look, the constant observation making her nervous. She felt a drop of sweat running down the middle of her back as she counted out the amount of stirs before adding the next ingredient. She could practically feel his eyes burning holes into her skin, but he did not say anything. Between the stirring she continued to take notes on the progression of the potion, scribbling it down whenever the brew changed colour, emitted noise or scent, or changed in consistency. After what felt like an eternity under the spotlight she added the final ingredient. The potion hissed, turned a greyish shade of purple. Hermione counted out the final stirs and removed the concoction from the fire.

“I think we are ready, sir” she announced, wiping sweat off her brow. Chopping ingredients had been tedious, brewing under the critical gaze of professor Snape was nerve-wracking.

“In that case, let us test it” he said walking up to her working bench. He grabbed an empty tube, and ladled a small sample of the potion into it. He pointed his wand at the vial that contained the ear hairs of Harry and removed the cork. With a swish of his wand he directed a single hair from the vial into the potion. It fell into the liquid with a gentle hiss, and dissolved.

“It seems like the experiment was a success, Miss Granger” he concluded, setting the stopper back in the vial. “You may want to warn Mr Potter though, that there might be a temporary side effect of increased gas regurgitation.”

“Thank you, professor” she beamed, suddenly exhausted. “I will also make a copy of my notes to give to Fred and George for their future victims, and a copy to give to you.” She shuffled the papers into a neat little pile, eyeing the empty cutting board, chewing her lower lip. He leaned forward to scan the notes, his long arms resting on the work bench, supporting his weight.

“Professor, I was thinking… may I ask you something, sir?”

“You already did” he said looking up from the notes. “But I assume you had a different question in mind. You may proceed, but I will not guarantee that I will answer.”

“Well, sir, you said that the magic of a potion comes from the potioneer handling the ingredients. When there are several people brewing together, how does their magic react to each other? How does it combine?”

He leaned back, propping his lower back against another potions table. He kept tapping a long, pale forefinger against his lips, thinking about the answer. “That is a very good, and rather complex question, Miss Granger” he seemed to be considering something, than pulled his wand from his sleeve. “Tell me, Miss Granger, do you remember what Mr Ollivander told you, when you got your first wand?” He asked. She licked her lips, trying to imagine she was back in the small, dusty store, that was vibrating with magic.

“It is the wand that chooses the witch, Miss Granger” she recalled.

“Anything else?”

“A witch, or a wizard can only perform a spell to the best of their ability with their own wand” she quoted.

“Ah, we are getting there” he said tapping his own wand against his palm. “Tell me, Miss Granger, have you ever tried to use someone else’s wand?”

“No, sir.” To her surprise he handed his wand towards her, hilt first.

“Try to cast a simple spell, Miss Granger” he offered. Hermione’s breath hitched. There was something terribly personal about using someone else’s wand. Like borrowing a toothbrush. She could not imagine that professor Snape would lend his wand to just anyone. Gingerly, she took the wand feeling a strange tingle in her fingers, as if the black wood was sentient. She pointed it at the cutting boards they had been using and cast a cleaning charm on them.

Magic rushed through her, and into the wand, but the spell felt very different from the other times she has cast it. It had a strange weight, or rather a flavour to it. As if the wand was a kind of filter, that changed the magic that flew through it.

“Thank you, professor” she said blushing slightly, she did not even know why. She handed the wand back, hilt first.

“How did that feel?” he asked, studying her face. He resumed twirling the wand between his fingers.

“Different. Heavy. Spicy.” She did not think the professor would appreciate is she added it was pleasant and felt very personal. She was very grateful for the lesson he was giving, and did not want to imply anything even marginally inappropriate. In the last few weeks he had treated her kinder than in the classroom, but there was no shred of doubt that he treated her like a student, and nothing more.

“The personal magic of witches and wizards has a unique feel to it” he explained, tapping his wand against his palm. “This is something nearly impossible to qualify and very difficult to quantify. In most cases, if we mix magic from two different individuals, it simply adds up. ‘A’ mixed with ‘B’ will be A+B. If the personal flavour of the individual’s magic is too different, you may end up with less than A+B, even to the extreme when they cancel each other out, which would be A-B. This extreme is rather rare, but getting less magic than the sum of the magic of the individuals is not uncommon.” He took a few seconds to consider the cutting boards Hermione cleaned, running an elegant finger over the surface. “This is the reason that witches and wizards very rarely mix their magic directly. Usually they use other conduits, like artefacts to do the mixing, which filters away the personal flavours of magic, and will reliably yield just a bit less than A+B.”

Hermione considered his words carefully.

“Can a direct combination also result in more than A+B?” She asked

“Yes, but this is extremely rare. In some cases when the magics work well together you may end up with more than the sum, sometimes even much more. The most famous example of this is the wards that the four founders of Hogwarts have cast together. Their magic did not just add up, it expanded exponentially, and in turn created Hogwarts, a semi-sentient construct. Finding four witches and wizards with magic in such harmony is a once in a millennia event. The best ward smiths spend decades auditioning people, hoping to find just one other who has magic that can enhance their own.” He tapped his finger against his mouth, thinking. Hermione was listening with rapt attention.

“When you used my wand, what you felt is the difference between our personal brands of magic. You described it as heavy, probably because I have quite a bit more power. Spicy” he shrugged, not quite able to put the difference into words. “Is probably a difference in personality, preferences, priorities, talents, all of that, maybe none of that. Should I hand my wand over to a different wizard, they would have a different experience, because their own magic is different. Now, this brings us back to your original question about potion ingredients. They act more or less as an artifact, they filter most of the personal magic away. Most, but not all. If two individuals with widely different magic try to brew a potion, the result can be rather dangerous. Individuals with magic that are in good harmony could create even more potent brews, though the difference is not as obvious as it is when they are combining raw power.”

Hermione chewed on her lip, thinking.

“Sir, is that why you assigned Neville a new lab partner each time he blew up a cauldron?” she asked.

“I could not disregard the possibility that Longbottom was simply a terrible match with his partner. After so many cauldrons, though, it was evident he was simply a dunderhead. By placing him in the far corner of the lab I could at least insure that he would wound the least amount of people when his next cauldron exploded.” He shoved himself away from the counter he was leaning against, and slid his wand up his sleeve again. The conversations was apparently over.

“Thank you, sir” Hermione looked down at the potion in front of her. “How much antidote do you think Harry will need?”

“Give him about half a tumbler” he said picking off a speck of dust from his sleeve. “If the hair does not completely disappear in two hours, give him another portion and wait two more hours. I estimate the effect should be fully reversed after no more than three doses.”

Hermione ladled the purplish liquid in a cup, and started to walk towards the dungeon door.

“Miss Granger” he called as she was about to open the door.

“Yes, sir?”

“In the past you and Weasley have been at the side of Potter whenever he got himself into more trouble than he could handle. For the sake of the wizarding world, I hope you continue to do so. It may be useful for the three of you to know how your magic works together. If you have some time, do make an effort to experiment with it, it could make the difference in a tight situation.”

“Yes, sir. I will make sure that we do. Thank you, professor.” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

\---

“Happy birthday, Harry!” the living room erupted in cheer as her friend walked in. The whole Order has come along to celebrate, it is not every day that Harry Potter turns seventeen.

“Thank you” he grinned, looking around with a happy smile. The party may not have been a true surprise, but he seemed genuinely happy to see so many friendly faces. The twins have exploded a confetti cannon, and it was raining red little lightning bolts in the room. Mrs Weasley made a giant four-tire birthday cake, there was a table with refreshments and punch, which Hermione stayed away from, she had seen Fred and George lurking around it.

“Harry” Sirius drew him into a happy man-hug, clapping his back. “Many happy returns” he beamed. “I can’t believe you are a grown-up now. I still remember when you were this little, and got your first ever little broom. “ He pulled out a package from his robes. Upon opening it turned out to contain a bottle of Ogden’s firewhiskey.

“Now Harry” George appeared on his right, taking one of his arms.

“That you are seventeen” Fred said from the other side, hanging onto his other arm.

“You are an adult, and…”

“… you can do all”

“the fun stuff grown-ups can.” The twins took turns to speak.

“That includes drinking,”

“voting,”

“apparating.”

“But we think what you will enjoy the most”

“Are girls” George winked.

“So we got you a gift to practice with” he pushed a gift box into his hands. Harry opened it laughing – the twins have gotten him a very cheap, very muggle inflatable doll. He turned a lovely shade of ruby, but he kept laughing along with those who understood the joke.

He also got a set of dark blue dress robes from Mrs Weasley, an enchanted razor and shaving cream from Mr Weasley (who could not contain his excitement about the doll). Hermione got him a book on the newest quidditch tactics and formations and a box of chocolate cauldrons, Alastor Moody gave him a set of poison detectors that could be used to check if your food was safe. Tonks gifted him a pair of screaming underpants that was singing Happy Birthday to you at the top of its lungs and a practice snitch, Lupin surprised him with a big box of Honeyduke’s chocolate. Hermione did not hear what Ginny got him, but she whispered something in his ear that made him turn into an even darker shade of red, and made his mouth pull into a wide smile.

The antidote for the hairs must have done its job, and Hermione made herself a mental note to write down in the notes that a single dose was effective in the treatment. Even professors McGonagall and Dumbledore turned up for the party. The head of their house pulled Harry into an awkward hug, and gave him a coupon for Flourish and Blotts. Harry was downright radiating with pride when the headmaster patted him on the shoulder, looked him in the eye, shook his hand and told him how very proud he was of the man he became.

“Potter, I have to admit it is impressive you managed to avoid getting killed though sheer stupidity all these years” Snape shook his hand. He even went as far as gifting him a book _, Remedial potions for dummies_ , which made Harry turn into an unattractive shade of puce.

At some point someone has turned on the Wizarding Wireless, and people started to dance in the living room. Fred and George climbed on top of the coffee table, and pretended to do a striptease, until Mrs Weasley threatened them to glue the shirts to their chests. Hermione nearly spit her butterbeer out when she saw professor McGonagall do an enthusiastic twist with the headmaster.

After the first slow song she noticed Ginny dragging Harry away, not so discreetly, heading upstairs. She smiled to herself, Harry was probably about to get his birthday gift from his girlfriend.

Lupin and Tonks were having a blast, twirling around madly between the dancers. Hermione saw professor Snape pull a couple of vials from his robe, and fill them with the punch from the punch bowl. He tucked the away into his robes. Apparently she was not the only one who suspected foul play. He noticed her looking and raised an eyebrow at her.

She smiled back at him and was about to turn away, when a hand descended on her shoulder. Glancing up she saw the smiling face of professor Dumbledore looking down at her.

“Miss Granger, I was wondering if I may have a word with you” he asked, though Hermione had no doubt that turning him down was not an option.

“Of course, headmaster” she nodded and followed the old wizard into the garden. Sometime during the party night has fallen, and a string of enchanted lights came to life against the inky blue of the sky. The heat of summer has softened to a balmy evening and crickets were happily singing along with the celebrants. Hermione followed Dumbledore along the small garden path between half-finished flowerbeds. Finally he clasped his hands behind his back, turning towards her.

“Miss Granger, forgive me, but I could not help noticing the bruise on your wrist” he looked at her benevolently from behind his halfmoon spectacles. “Is there anything you would like to tell me, my dear?” Hermione’s hand flew to her wrist automatically, rubbing the bruise absentmindedly.

“Oh, this is nothing, headmaster. It is actually my own fault, I lost my balance. I was really lucky I was caught, I could have hurt myself much worse if I fell.”

“Miss Granger, my dear. Please be honest with me. I cannot help you unless you tell me what really happened. Who hurt you?” Hermione could not decide if she should be touched that the headmaster cared about her well-being, or if she should be annoyed that he was not listening to her. Either way, she was so not going to throw professor Snape under the bus. Those private lessons were the best thing that happened to her education-wise, she was not about to risk it.

“Thank you, for your concern, headmaster. I can assure you, it is truly nothing, no one hurt me. A small bruise is a small price to pay for not cracking my head open on the stone floor” she hoped that using a more graphic explanation would drive her point home. Dumbledore sighed. The gesture was filled with a message: I do not believe you. I know better what you need.

“Please, Hermione, I am only trying to help. Did Harry do this to you?” Hermione was confused by his jump in logic. Why on earth would he think it was Harry? She knew that the headmaster was fond of secrets. She did not think she had much of a chance to manipulate more information out of the him, but she was determined to try. She tried to think about what a master Slytherin would do. She did not say anything, hoping the headmaster would feel the need to fill in the silence. She cast her eyes down, remembering that Harry told her he was one of the best legilimens in the world.

“Hermione, dear. If Harry is having trouble controlling his emotions, if he does something he does not mean to, I need to know.” Hermione wondered why Dumbledore thought Harry would or should become violent.

“Why would he do that, professor?” she asked timidly, trying to sound scared. She wished she was a better actress.

“I am afraid, young Harry is under a tremendous amount of stress” he answered. While she agreed with the statement, Harry was actually doing pretty well. He was happy with his girlfriend, excited that Dumbledore trusted him to take him along the horcrux hunt even if it was sometimes boring. He was for the first time surrounded by friends and even had a pseudo family. Stress was not enough of a reason to become violent out of the blue. Alas, she did not think the headmaster would tell her the truth.

“It was not Harry, sir. He has never been aggressive to us” well, that was a little bit of a stretch. In their fifth year he was rather explosive, the emotions of Voldemort bleeding though his scar and causing quite some trouble mixing with his teenage anxiety, but he had not had such an outburst in ages. “Also, no one hurt me, it was an accident.”

“May I have your wrist, dear?” he said with a dejected sigh, drawing his wand. “We cannot have people thinking someone hurt you.” He did not believe her. It angered her how her welfare did not seem to matter as much as what others would think of Harry. It infuriated her that what she said was swept aside, her word treated as worthless. He could have just as well patted her head and said, ‘there, there, I know better’. She glanced at her wrist, and realised with a start she did not want Dumbledore to heal it. True, it was not pretty and it did not feel pleasant to touch it, but this was a result of Professor Snape looking out for her, catching her. She could not quite explain why, but the mark was precious to her, as silly as it sounded.

“Thank you, professor Dumbledore, but no. It will heal on its own in time.”

“Miss Granger” he looked a her disapprovingly from above his glasses. “I really wish you would allow me to heal your hand.”

“Thank you professor, you are kind. It is good to know how much you care.” Obviously not that much. “But I rather let it heal on its own. Was there anything else you needed to talk to me about, sir?” she asked with utmost politeness.

“No, my dear. You may go.”

“Good night, sir.” She turned to leave as soon as she could.


	5. Girl time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Neither the world or the characters are mine, I merely borrowed the to have a bit of fun. When I am finished, I will return them slightly used.  
> \-----  
> Special thanks to hlharriss for all the lovely reviews! <3

Harry’s birthday celebration went on till early in the morning. Hermione was not one bit surprised when the entire house was silent as she descended the stairs into the kitchen. Kreacher must have been working hard, as all surfaces were free from the lightning-bolt confetti, the glasses had been washed, the footprints cleaned away. Hermione pulled out some ham, cheese and bred from the fridge, and started to make a sandwich for breakfast.

She was about to sit down at the kitchen table to eat, when a blurry-eyed Ginny walked in, wearing a pair of jeans and checked shirt three sizes too big for her, hanging down to her knees.

“Good morning” Hermione smiled at her.

“Food” Ginny answered, plopping down on a chair next to her. Hermione chuckled, and pushed the sandwich in front of her friend. “Tea or coffee?” she stood to prepare another sandwich.

“Coffee, please” Ginny mumbled, her eyes not all the way open. Hermione set to making coffee and spreading butter on another slice of bread. “You seem to be tired. Long night?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“I thought you turned it pretty early” she teased. “I saw you two leave the party rather soon. Did Harry keep you up all night?”

“Actually, he did.”

“Oh, do tell” she prompted her with a grin, setting a cup of coffee on the table for both of them.

“He snores” Ginny burst out with exasperation. “I do not know how Ron and the other guys can sleep in the same room with him all the time. He doesn’t just snore, he sounds like a dragon with a terrible head cold.”

“Oh, I am honestly sorry, Ginny” she said taking a bite of her own sandwich. After swallowing, she continued. “If you want to, you can come and bunk in my room, there is spare bed. I do not think I snore.”

“Thank you, but no thank you” she gave her a sly grin. “How am I supposed to have kinky monkey sex with him, if he is not in the same room?” Hermione nearly choked on her coffee. “What? Don’t tell me it is not what you thought we were doing in the first place.”

“Actually, it is, I just never thought I would hear ‘kinky monkey sex’ from you. If you want to share anything, I am happy to listen, but no pressure.” She waggled her eyebrows at her.

“Well, I don’t want to be divulging everything” Ginny blushed. “But it was ok.”

“Just ok? Do I need to give Harry a talking to? Maybe a couple of books on the topic of how to turn the ok into mind-blowing?” Ginny chuckled.

“There are some things that you cannot learn from a book, Hermione. And he wasn’t just ok. He was sweet, careful, he listened, he followed instructions. Not his fault that the first few times just hurt” she shrugged, sipping her coffee.

“Ah, would you like a pain relief potion? We have stocked up quite a few in the past week.”

“Nah, don’t be silly. It does hurt at first, but Harry was very careful and patient. If you wait long enough, the pain kinda fades to unpleasant to neutral. I have not gotten to feels good yet, because the pain is a huge mood killer for me. But with each time we do the dirty it goes easier and the pain is less. With a bit of practice we will get there. You know what I mean, right?” It was Hermione’s turn to blush.

“No, actually I do not know.”

“You mean you and Viktor didn’t?”

Hermione shook her head. “Viktor was a smart, shy, sweet guy, but we did not really have enough time alone for anything serious to grow. He was followed around by all his fans constantly, we had practically zero privacy.”

“I take then that you did not get that far with Ron either.”

“We did try a few times, but it was just awkward” Hermione shrugged. “And when we weren’t trying, we were fighting constantly. I guess we both wanted something else from the other than what we could give. In the end, we are better off as friends. Less pressure, less expectations, easier to forgive if one of us does something stupid.”

“You mean, if he does something stupid” Ginny grumbled.

“I am not perfect either. Sometimes I am way too humble” Ginny giggled, and took a bite of her sandwich.

“Well, I think it is all for the better. I mean it would be awkward to have the girl talk with you about my brother. And never worry, you will find the right wizard. Or witch. Or both.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but it will definitely be a wizard” Hermione teased.

“Oh, does that mean you are not gonna join Harry and me?” she asked with a mock-pout. Hermione chortled.

“I do not think you truly want to share.”

“Fair enough. But when you do find the right wizard I do want the dirty little details.”

“As many as you have given me, witches honour.”

“Do you have an eye for anyone?” Ginny asked popping the last of her sandwich into her mouth.

“I broke up with Ron two month ago, and I was closed in here nearly the whole time. There wasn’t really a lot of opportunity to get to know someone new. And no offence, but I have no intention trading one Weasley for another.”

“None taken. Come to think of it, all we have here is my family and a couple of order member coming and going.”

“Well, I guess I could have asked professor McGonagall is she was interested in spanking me with a cane, she seems like the strict type who would be good at that” Ginny laughed so hard, she had coffee dripping out her nose. “But it is just not my thing.”

“God damn it Hermione” she said dabbing at her face. “I will not be able to get that image out of my head. How am I supposed to sit through transfiguration with a straight face after that?”

“You aren’t.”

\---

Hermione walked down to the potions lab, ready to tackle the next task. When she arrived at the bottom of the staircase, she found a note pinned to the door.

_Miss Granger,_

_An urgent matter has arisen that demands my undivided attention. I will be away for a few days. You can proceed with the preparations for creating five gallons of pepper-up potion. Should you have enough time, feel free to proceed with the brewing, it is a simple enough recipe and you should be able to handle it. I have left some modified instructions on the table._

_Prof. Severus Snape_

Hermione took the note, folded it and tucked it into the back pocket of her jeans. She could not decide if she was happy or disappointed. She was proud that professor Snape trusted her to brew alone, and a bit disappointed because she was looking forward to their inspiring conversation. With a sigh she unlocked the wards, and got down to crushing red berry peppers.

After a few hours of the monotony of chopping, cutting, crushing, the silence of the lab was starting to get on her nerves. She did not quite understand her own irritation, usually she enjoyed working in the calm room. She would touch her wrist regularly, to remind herself at the task and hand, and for a short while it would give her the willpower to push on. Even her usual ritual of getting coffee did not seem to help. After she brought the cup downstairs, there was nothing more to be done than drink or chop. She was greatly relieved when lunch time rolled around, and she could join the other residents of the headquarters. Molly served chilled lemonade and fresh, green tuna salad with olives and baguette. She enjoyed the regular jokes from Fred and George, and she was distracted by Mr Weasley who wanted to know everything about Monopoly.

When everyone was ready with eating, and it was time for her to get back to work, for the first time in weeks she dragged herself back to the potions lab grudgingly. She still wanted to earn the trust of Professor Snape, but being alone in the room made the job soul-crushingly boring.

Even though she made really good progress in the following two days, and she was ready to start the actual brewing, her mood did not improve much. The most fun she had was when she had to wait for the cherry peppers to soak in water before she could peel them. Guided by a sudden idea, she pulled out a compact mirror from her bag, and tried to do a one eyebrow arch professor Snape was famous for. She placed a few fingers on her forehead, analysing the feeling how her muscles contracted when she was moving her eyebrows. She concentrated hard on which muscles she wanted to flex and which she should keep relaxed to achieve the desired results. It took her the better part of an hour to manage to draw one brow high, with the other doing no more than a little twitch. She made herself a mental note to practice a bit more in front of a mirror, she was positive she would get the hang of it.

Most a of the time it was just preparation work, peeling one ingredient after another. The silence of the room only broken by the clopping noise of the knife on the cutting board. The discoloration on her wrist became her touching stone, something to keep her on track and push forward. The stress of a monotonous job made her irritable and snappy, even when she was not in the dungeon. When Mrs Weasley announced that they would be going to Diagon ally the day, she welcomed the distraction with sincere delight.

“Gosh, I so need a break” Ron complained that morning while he and Harry were playing wizard chess. They were waiting for everyone to be ready to leave. They would all need a proper escort to keep them all safe. “It feels like my eyes are going to fall out if I have to look at another damn book from the Malfoy collection.” They watched as one of his pawns dragged Harry’s last remaining knight off the board.

“Did you find anything useful yet?” Harry asked, biting his nail, trying to make up his mind about his next move.

“Kind of. We did find a book that has some detailed instruction how to destruct a horcrux. Bill is working on removing the curses and charms from it as we speak, but this is not really the book Dumbledore was looking for.”

“Well, at least you did make progress” Harry tried to encourage one of his rocks to move, but they did not seem to have a lot of confidence in his playing, and refused to budge. “All I did was dug up a few flowerbeds, and apparate all over the country. I fear one of these days I will be permanently stretched out as if someone pushed me out of a tooth paste tube.” Ron snorted. “I think if I did not have some one on one time with Sirius, I would go totally barmy. We have decided to use the old model train set he has found on the attic, and build a train model of the Hogwarts express and the castle in his father’s old study” he explained with a grin.

“I did not know either of you were into trains” Hermione remarked.

“We aren’t fanatic about it. The set used to belong to Regulus” Harry answered, his gaze fixed on the chessboard. “But all guys like trains at least a bit, I think. Or at least tinkering with a model set. It is mostly just something to give use to do together.” He paused, rubbing his forehead as if he expected a brilliant move to come to mind. “Also it gives me a feeling that I am making progress at least with something. Makes me feel a bit more useful.”

“Don’t forget you also helped Fred and George test their roulette rum balls” Ron chuckled. “At least now you know Ginny will still want you even when you turn old, even uglier, and have hair growing from your ears.” Harry blushed slightly, but Ron continued without noticing. “As for me, at least Remus is all right. Can’t imagine poor Hermione stuck in the lab with the giant dungeon bat all day” he mused, considering Harry’s latest move.

“That’s Professor Snape, Ron” Hermione corrected him irritably. “And I know it would probably not be your cup of tea, but I did find it interesting work.”

“Well, better you than me, sister” Ginny came in the room laughing. She sat down on the floor between Hermione and Harry.

“Whom are we still waiting for?” Harry asked pulling his girlfriend against him.

“Moody and Lupin. Mum wants to make sure all of us have a personal escort” she rolled her yes. “I know it is war and everything, but…”

“Actually, I think your mum is right” Harry interrupted. He turned with a serious expression towards Ginny. “When Sirius and Hermione nearly died at the Ministry… well, you realise that people are so fragile” his voice became somewhat high pitched and turned away before he could get emotional. “We take each other for granted, but that is a mistake. It is a gift to not be alone, to have each other, and something we should try to be careful with. I know we cannot stop all the bad things from happening, but we can at least try to be as prepared as we can be.” Hermione could not believe her ears. Was this the same, moody Harry? He has grown so much. Her heart swelled with pride.

Sensing the tension between the two, Hermione interrupted. “So, who do we get as escorts?” Harry managed to convince one of his pawns to make a move, which made Ron grin in a way that suggested the game was nearly over.

“I am stuck with mum” Ginny made a face. “Mad-eye goes with Harry, professor Lupin takes Ron, Fred and George are grownups, but mum insisted dad should go with them. Also, professor McGonagall is here as your escort. I think mum insisted that a young lady like you might need some personal female items and you would be more comfortable shopping with, well, someone female.” The two of them exchanged look, and they burst out laughing.

“What is so funny about shopping with McGonagall?” Harry asked nonplussed.

“No idea mate. If you ask me, it sounds a bit scary” Ron took Harry’s queen.

Before Harry could have considered his next move, the door opened downstairs, and the shrieks of Mrs Black have filled up the house. (Filthy mudbloods, disgusting blood traitors, scum of…)

“I wonder if professor Snape would know a potion to get the paint off that horrid piece of canvas” Hermione mused.

“It would be cool if we did not have to tiptoe around on the corridor, for sure. If he made a potion like that, I would even stop calling him a greasy git. Well at least for a while.” Ron answered. Harry’s hand was hovering over different chess pieces, each time looking at Ron’s face. When his gangly friend just smiled widely, he would move onto the next piece. Hermione was no good at chess, but she thought Harry did not really have any good moves left.

“Ron! You should not call him names anyway.”

“I am glad he is on our side, Hermione” Harry remarked, pushing one of the knights into a new position. “But that does not make him nice or likable.”

“Wow, mate. Since when do you trust the dungeon bat? Last year I heard nothing else than Malfoy is a Death-eater…” 

“Which he turned out to be.”

“… and that Snape is a traitor and is trying to help him.

“Which he was. Trying to help him, I mean. But professor Dumbledore told me many times he trusted Snape, and he was right. In the end, it only comes down to whether I trust the headmaster, and I do, without hesitation.”

“And if he was keeping secrets from you?” Hermione asked thinking about the conversation she had with him at Harry’s birthday party.

“Maybe he does. But if it is so, it must be with a good reason. Look at how I reacted when I learned it was Snape that overheard the prophecy” he even blushed in shame. “No, I trust professor Dumbledore. If we cannot trust him, we cannot trust anyone.”

Hermione exchanged a quick glance with Ron, but they dropped the topic. The rest of the chess match between Harry and Ron was quick and brutal, Harry had barely any pieces left on the board. When Mrs Black started screaming again, Ginny jumped to her feet energetically.

“They must all be here. Let’s go and have some fun!” They all filed out of the room, Ginny practically skipping down the stairs in excitement. The grownups were waiting for them in the kitchen, finalizing the plan.

“We need to get back here as soon as we can” Moody announced. “It means we should divide the tasks, one of us can pick up all the books another all the potion ingredients…”

“That is not a bad plan, Alastor, but all of needs to go to Madam Malkins. The children all need new uniforms.”

“If it is ok, I would like to go to Flourish and Blotts” Hermione piqued in. “My parents gave me some money for my birthday, and I would like to get some books.”

“Of course you do” Ron mumbled.

“That is acceptable, Miss Granger” professor McGonagall said.

“Well, then Remus will pick up potions ingredients with Weasley” Moody decided.

“I would like to go to the Quality Quidditch…” Harry and Ron interjected at the same time.

“Potter, you are the most vulnerable target of us all. We should keep you out of sight as much as possible.”

“We can pick up the potions ingredients” Molly Weasley offered. Ginny grimaced.

“And we could get a quidditch catalogue from the shop real quick, so Harry would not feel so left out.” Ron offered with a grin.

“That is settled then” professor McGonagall decided. “We will meet back here as soon as we can. When finished, apparate back in here. If you get in trouble, try to apparate away immediately, and send a patronus to the others.” Harry did not seem happy with the arrangement, but after his talk on how fragile people were, he did not have much room to argue. “Miss Granger, you are coming with me. Remus takes Mr Weasley, Molly goes with Miss Weasley, Alastor will look after Mr Potter.”

The ex aurors grabbed Harry’s arm with a grumbled “come on Potter” and apparated away.

“Miss Granger, you may take my arm” her head of house offered.

“Thank you, professor, but I have already passed my apparition test.”

“I know my dear, but for your safety we should apparate together to make sure we do not get separated.” She did not think it was wise to argue with her head teacher, so she took the proffered arm, and they apparated. She never enjoyed the sensation, but a side-along apparition was even worse, it felt like she had been squished into half the space she normally had. No wonder Harry was so unhappy with the outings with the headmaster.

They arrived directly in front of Madam Malkin’s . Hermione fought the urge to puke on the shoes of her professor as she opened the door to the shop. She barely had a few seconds to look around the uncharacteristically deserted street before she was ushered in.

Harry and Mad-eye Moody were the only customers in the shop when they entered. A plump and cheerful looking which wearing a cerulean blue robe rushed to greet them.

“Welcome to Madam Malkin’s, my dear. Here to get some new school robes?” Thanks to the deserted shop they were helped very quickly. She did notice Ginny and Mrs Weasley entering shortly after she hopped off the stool the shop used to measure the correct length of robes customers would need. Hermione counted out four galleons and twelve sickles for three sets of new robes, and allowed her head of house to rush her out of the store. She wondered why professor Lupin and Ron were taking so long.

“Miss Granger, will you be needing new undergarments?” her teacher asked in her clipped, Scottish accent, adjusting her square glasses. She felt her face burn as blood ruched to her cheeks. McGonagall probably noticed, as she continued. “As unbelievable it may seem, I have been eighteen too, and I do understand it is a time when a young witch goes through quite a growth. There is nothing to be ashamed about it” she said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “And I am certain it is not something you keep thinking about, but even professors need underwear” she added with a small smile. An unbidden image of professor Dumbledore with wearing nothing under his robes popped into Hermione’s mind, and she had to supress a shudder.

“Yes, professor. I do need new underwear” she admitted, suddenly wishing she was accompanied by Mrs Weasley instead, she felt more like a motherly figure.

“Very well. Do you have a preferred store?” She didn’t, and allowed her teacher to navigate her through one of the side streets to a store. She never really though about how different magical under could be, and probably she should have. There were self-resizing bras, others that changed colour to match what you were wearing. There was a set that could turn parts of it invisible so it would not show when peeking out from under a dress. Some were made of arcomantula silk, others had a push-up charm, not that she needed it; and again others were enhanced with cover-up charms and anti-bobbing charms. There were quidditch support bras, others with a grantee that they would not discolour if washed together with other colours, and also some very skimpy, lacy things that were not meant to be worn for long, but be probably taken off by someone else.

She did not intend to spend that many galleons in the store, but she could not pass up on splurging on a few pairs of self-sizing arcomantula-silk bras. They were the most comfortable things she has ever tried on, soft and warm, they fit like a second skin, offering support without digging in, pulling, pressing or pinching anywhere. Hermione swore to herself never to buy muggle bras again.

Next they headed to Flourish and Blotts. Professor McGonagall suggested they drop off all their book lists with the clerk, and browse for fun reading while the shop assistant compiles their compulsory reading list. Hermione wished she could spend an eternity among the shelves, there were just too many tomes she wanted. Should she get _Everything about animagi_ , or should she go for _Advanced transfiguration theory_? Would _Modern developments in potioneering_ be a better read than _Charming charms_? Twenty minutes later she was no closer to choosing, but she was balancing a tower of books she would never be able to afford, and would only fit in her trunk if she cast an undetectable extension charm on it.

“Are you in need of a recommendation, Miss Granger?” an amused professor McGonagall asked, her eyes skimming over the titles in the teetering tower she was holding.

“Actually, yes, please. There are just too many topics I find interesting” she admitted. Her head of house considered the titles.

“You never mentioned you were interested in becoming an animagus, Miss Granger” she remarked.

“Well, I find the theory fascinating” she admitted brushing hair away from her forehead. “But I would not know where to start with learning, and the last few years we were all busy with… other extracurricular activities.”

“If you are serious in your interest, I would be more than happy to tutor you” she offered. “Seventh year NEWT students are expected to undertake on a special project, and becoming an animagus would be more than advanced enough of a choice.”

“Thank you professor, I would love to learn to transform” she answered excitedly. “I just wonder, if that is an acceptable project for the last year, why aren’t there more whites and wizards who try?”

“Much like apparition, it takes a very long time of studying and preparation before someone can attempt a transformation. Unlike apparition, not everyone is successful, some just do not have the endurance to and willpower to keep trying. Also, not everyone is happy with the animagus form they end up with. Some have limited usefulness” she explained, adjusting her glasses. “For some, it takes years to achieve a successful transformation, and naturally, a school project has a much stricter time limit. However, I am more than confident that you have what it takes to learn it in time, Miss Granger. Before you choose your project, I would suggest you do some background reading to be able to make a well-informed decision.”

“Thank you, professor. Is there a specific book you would suggest?” her head teacher flicked her wand, and a thick tome came sailing to her hand. _The basics, tips and tricks to beginner animagi._ “This volume will serve you well, whether you choose to go on with this transformation project or not.”

“Thank you, professor McGonagall” she hugged the book to her chest. “I really appreciate your input and tutoring.”

“Don’t mention it, my dear. I am always happy to help such a bright mind to achieve their full potential.” Hermione blushed under her praise. The professor’s eyes flitted to her exposed wrist. The blue bruise had turned a sickly green shade during the past few days. Professor McGonagall gently put her hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “Miss Granger, if there is anything you need to talk about or need help with, I hope you know that my door is always open.” Hermione briefly considered if it was the headmaster who put her up to offering her help, but even if so, her head of house had a genuinely worried expression on her face.

“Thank you, professor, I will keep that in mind. Please do not worry about this. If I had not been caught, I would have tumbled down the stairs. Any bruise resulting from that is the fault of my own, and it did save from much greater injury.”

“If you are sure, Miss Granger” she gave her light squeeze on the shoulder and a small smile before she let her go. “But we should go collect the rest of the books, and return to the headquarters, the others must be already back.” They proceeded to the counter where they picked up the new schoolbooks, and Hermione paid a galleon, three sickles and eight knuts for her purchase.

When they arrived back at Grimmauld place, most of the order members were already seated, waiting for dinner. There was an empty seat next to Mr Weasley, reserved for his wife. Harry and Ron have saved a seat for her between the two of them, and they were currently busy rummaging through a cardboard box together with Ginny. The side of the box depicted brooms, snitches and other quidditch paraphernalia, so she had a good guess where it came from. Professor McGonagall dropped off the books in the living room, then joined Alastor Moody, Tonks and Remus at the other side of the table, leaving one chair empty.

With a pang she realised the chair belonged to professor Snape. She hoped he was doing well, and she wished he would join them for dinner. The realisation hit her like a ton of bricks: she missed the potions master. No, she did not miss the acerbic professor who made fun of her in front of the class and ignored her. She missed the teacher whom she shared coffee with, who answered her questions and prompted her to think, who allowed her to use his wand. She missed the small half-smiles, the intelligent conversations, the excitement of learning and discovery. Reeling from the realisation, she sat down between her friends, wondering what they would think if they knew she actually enjoyed working with professor Snape. Probably something along the lines of ‘completely mental’, though probably Fred and George would have more synonyms for it. When did this happen? They have been brewing together for about a month, though in that period they did spend a lot of time together. She could not pinpoint when things changed for her, but at some point professor Snape became a person to her. She would be sad if something happened to Alastor Moody, Mrs Figg or another Order member she barely knew. There were, however, people who, if got hurt, would make her sincerely and genuinely upset, and the potions master has just wormed his way into this second group.

She tried to put a label to what she felt, but should not find anything that fit. He felt to be more than a teacher, but not a friend yet. What do you call someone you wish to get to know better?

“You look lost there, girlfriend” Ginny threw her arm around her shoulder. She was holding a tube of broom polish in her hand.

“Well, you know… quidditch?” she answered vaguely. Ron chuckled.

“Yeah, that will give ‘Mione a lost look, all right. What is for dinner? I am starving.”


	6. Ideas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the characters, I only borrow them to have fun with, and return them slightly used.

“Come in!” Hermione entered Ginny’s room. The younger witch was lying across her bed on her back, her legs popped up against the wall, crossed at the ankles. She was browsing through CosmoWitch.

“Hey Ginny” she closed the door behind her. Her redhead friend threw her a glance, removed her legs from the wall and sat up. “I brought you something.” She held out a half litre water bottle, containing a dark blue potion. There were small, golden looking pieces swimming in it.

“Thanks, Hermione. What is this?” She took the bottle rolling it around curiously.

“This is an anti-snoring potion” she explained, plopping down on the bed next to her friend. “So you can have both Harry and a full night’s sleep.” Ginny threw her arms around her with a delighted squeal, pressing the bottle into Hermione’s neck.

“Thank you, you are the bestest girlfriend ever” she declared. “When did you find the time to make this?”

“You are welcome” she smiled, pushing her friend away from her neck gently. “Professor Snape has been away, and left me in charge of the lab downstairs. It was not difficult to squeeze it in between the other brewing tasks.”

“So, how do we use this?” Ginny asked, tilting the bottle back and forth.

“Shake it, and use a piece of cotton to rub a bit of it on Harry’s throat before going to sleep. It should be effective for about ten hours.”

“Thank you again” she set the bottle down on a bedside table with a grin. “If you ever need help with anything, you know to find me, right?” she popped the magazine open again, and placed it between them. “What do you think?” she asked. The page was a top twenty list of the most charming and disarming female underwear. “I am thinking about getting Harry something special for Halloween or Christmas. Or maybe sooner, just because I want to” she giggled.

“This looks pretty hot” Hermione pointed to number 3. A lacy red little thing. Ginny screwed up ger face.

“That shade of red would clash terribly with my hair.”

“What about number seven? That dark blue would look great against your hair.”

“Niiceee… Though I do not think I have the boobs to make it, you know, really pop.” She squinted her eyes, looking at Hermione, and back to the magazine then up again. “But it would look hot on you, you would fill it out and this would put the girls really out there.”

“I do not have anyone to wear that for” she pointed out.

Ginny shrugged. “A girl sometimes needs some skimpy things just for themselves, to make them feel hot and know they are the queen of the jungle.”

“Me Herm, me want wizard in bed. Me want now” they dissolved in giggles. “Ok, what about that one? Last year Ron and Harry were a head taller than me, now I have to look up at you, and need a walkie-talkie to talk to the guys. You have miles of legs to show off, and those suspenders would look killer on you.”

“What is a walkie-talkie?”

“A muggle version of a two way mirror, it allows you to talk to someone at a great distance.”

“Do you think dad would like that for Christmas?”

“I think he would love it. Question is, do you dare to make your mum unhappy with you?”

“Eh, maybe better not. But actually, I was thinking something a bit wilder. That one.” Hermione leaned closer to the magazine, and the witch modelling the lingerie smiled at her, turning around to show off her back.

“Is that black leather?”

“Yup.”

“And a flog?”

“Yup.”

“Racy.”

“Yup.”

“Is Harry even into leather?”

“He had better be” Ginny flashed an evil smile, and Hermione wasn’t sure if she should be happy or scared for her best friend.

\---

A few hours later Hermione was sitting in the potions lab, waiting for the pepper up potion to come to boil. She has cleaned away the used dishes, knives and cutting boards, and kept herself busy with the horcrux book Ron had found. Bill managed to remove some nasty curses from it, and now it was safe for her to try to read it. Safe, but not easy.

The text was in some old version English, and not all parts were legible. She had an “Olde English- Modern English” magic dictionary propped open on one of the benches. She wondered if Ron and professor Lupin would have recognised what the book was for if the headmaster had not given them the titles he was hoping to find. The previous day she had gone through a chapter that detailed the requirements of making a horcrux, and paged through another about the dangers of making one. She did not need a warning against it, she wanted to know how to destroy one, so for now, she skipped the chapter. There were a few dozen of pages dedicated to how to prepare the receptive object, and a chapter on how to extract you own soul. She tried to read as little about these parts as possible. Evil could accumulate, build up slowly, like dirt under your fingernails.

When she finally found the chapter she was looking for she spent a lot more time on trying to get the best possible translation of the text. So far she has found three different ways to destroy a horcrux: use basilisk venom, fiendfyre or the song of a white Valkyr. Problem was, they did not have a basilisk, and even if they did, they were not exactly docile and likely to follow instructions. Maybe Harry could talk to one, but she doubted he could also convince one to do his bidding. Fiendfyre was uncontrollable. Once you cast it, it would burn anything and everything, even water. They would need something like a warped space dimension to contain it, and that was nearly impossible to find even once, let alone seven times. And white valkyrs have gone extinct in the eighteenth century, about two hundred years after the book was written. She has nearly reached the end of the chapter, and things were not looking promising.

When she heard the first bubbles rising from the gigantic cauldron, she placed a bookmark between the yellowed pages, jotted down the translation of the last sentence, and shut the book. She laced her fingers together over her head and stretched. Flicking her wand at the fire under the cauldron she lowered the flames to keep the brew at a soft shimmering. She made a mental note of the time, and reminded herself to come back and stir the potion in exactly ninety-seven minutes, and went to make herself a cup of coffee.

When she entered the kitchen she found professor Snape standing by the counter, tipping back a vial of potion. Her heart jumped with joy and she had to supress the urge to squeal and hug him. She highly doubted he would have appreciated the sentiment.

“Professor Snape, you are back!” she beamed with sincere enthusiasm.

“Apparently.” He rinsed the empty vial, and returned it to his robes. When he turned around, Hermione noticed a long, thin wound running down the left side of his face. It did not seem very deep, but it was still fresh and oozing blood.

“Sir, you are injured.”

“Stating the obvious again, Miss Granger. Why, your powers of observations are enviable” he said in his usual acerbic tone. She blushed.

“Sir, what I meant is that you are clearly in need of medical attention” she answered with a huff. “Is the wound cursed? If yes, what can I do to help? And if no, I should get some dittany to treat it.”

“No, Miss Granger, the wound is not cursed. And pray tell, why would I need help treating it, it is just a small cut.” She was burning to ask what happened to him, but she supressed the urge. She doubted he would appreciate her prying. While she was concerned for him, she had no right to know unless he wanted to share.

“Well, because it is on your cheek, sir. And unless you have some extra eyes somewhere I do not know about, I can probably see it much better than you can.”

“Fine” he agreed with a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, as if he was doing her a huge favour. She could not believe she had just gotten away with her cheek, she had a feeling he would not have been so cordial if they had an audience. “Let us go to the lab.”

They descended the stairs in silence. He glanced at the huge pot of shimmering potion but walked on without a comment. Hermione headed to the storage room, and grabbed a small jar of dittany they brewed together. When she went back to the lab, Snape threw _The most effective combinations of curses and potions_ from the lab stool onto the counter with a casual flick of his wrist, and sat down. Hermione stopped next to him, and brushed his hair behind his ear. The strands were thin and fine, and the texture reminded her of arcomantula silk. The cut run from the middle of his temple to the tip of his jaw in a curve. She uncorked the jar, took a smidgeon of the creamy substance. Remembering how Madam Pomfrey always warned her before she did anything, like touch her or use magic, she said “I am going to put the cream on now. This may sting a little.” She waited a few seconds to give the potions master a chance to withdraw his consent, but as he remained silent, she gently touched the cream to his cheek and carefully traced it on the cut. She made sure she did not miss any of the cut, she did not want to leave a scar.

Once finished, she returned the jar to the storage with a wave of her wand. Her eyes fall onto the book on the counter, and her heart gave a jump, flooding her with adrenaline, an idea forming in her head. Unable to contain her excitement, she looked professor Snape in the eye.

“Sir, may I ask your opinion on a piece of potions theory?” She opened _The most effective combinations of curses and potions_ at chapter five without waiting for his answer. “Sir, what do you think of this?” she asked, turning the pages towards professor Snape. The potions master flicked his hair free from behind his ear and reached for the book.

“Containing curses in potions” he red with an arch of his eyebrow. He scanned the page quickly, occasionally tapping his forefinger against his lips. He turned a couple more pages before looking up. “It seems like a workable theory” he offered. “What do you have in mind?”

“Would it be possible to contain a fiendfyre in such a potion?” she asked with barely contained excitement.

“Theoretically, yes. Practically? Hellishly difficult, insanely dangerous.”

“Would it be more dangerous than casting a fiendfyre?” He run his fingers through his hair considering her question.

“That depends on the potions master. I guess there are about five of us in wizarding Britain who could possibly pull it off relative safely, but it would require an immense effort, quite a bit of research and experimentation. The potions named in here also require more than one set of hands to prepare them, and are very time consuming. Why the sudden interest in fiendfyre, Miss Granger?”

She grabbed her translations from the Malfoy book, and placed it in front of him. As he red, his eyes widened and he lifted his hand to his mouth in an unconscious gesture.

“That would… that explains…So that is why” he mused. Hermione had a feeling professor Snape did not know about the Horcruxes. A weird, bitter feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. Why would the headmaster not trust him with the information? He was the only spy the order had, he may miss invaluable information on the topic if he does not understand the importance of what is being discussed in front of him. Professor Snape flattened out the parchment with his hands, unrolling it all the way to see if he had missed anything. “This suggestion has quite a bit of merit, Miss Granger. This may just work.” He grabbed the book and her translation. “However, I wish to research some of the finer points, and the last few days were exhausting, to say the least, and I need some rest before I get to do that. I want to do some more reading before we come up with a plan.”

“Thank you for your help, professor” she said wringing her hands. “I take the headmaster did not share his suspicions about horcruxes with you” she added uncertainly. He showed very little emotion, but Hermione has been trying to decipher his expressions over a month now. He seemed hurt by the remark.

“Astute, as always” his answer was nearly a sneer.

“I think the headmaster is wrong about that” she added quickly. He arched an eyebrow at her. “Without knowing about them, how could you possibly collect intel on them?”

“The headmaster must have had his reasons” he said flatly. If he felt hurt by that, he did not show.

“I… it was probably not my place to share that information” she said blushing slightly. “But I do trust you, professor. Can I expect you to not share with others what you have just learned?”

“Do you wish me to keep this from the headmaster?” She bit her lower lip choosing her words carefully.

“I am not trying to avoid the consequences of my actions” she declared. “I will trust your judgement, sir, whether professor Dumbledore should be informed about what you learned. I would only ask not to share it with anyone who does not already know about horcruxes.” The answer seemed to surprise him.

“Why, Miss Granger. I thought all Gryffindors were, as Potter put it, Dumbledore’s man, through and through” he remarked searching her face intently. “Are you suggesting that you find keeping information from the headmaster acceptable?” Hermione suddenly regretted going into the conversation, but she saw no way out. She had to explain, she did not want to be thrown off the project for not being trustworthy.

“I do trust that professor Dumbledore’s goal is to make sure we defeat You-know-Who, which is in the interest of the whole wizarding community” she responded. “I know he knows a lot more than Harry and I do, that he is one of the most powerful wizards of out times, and in a unique position to lead the fight against You-know-who. I also think this means he needs to make difficult decisions we may not like and may not be able to make on our own. I do trust, without a shred of doubt, that he has the best intention behind any decision we may not understand.” She thought about the secrets around the prophecy that nearly cost Sirius his life and left her with a scar, courtesy of Dolohov. Her fingers went to her collarbone in an unconscious gesture. She thought of how Harry had to learn the full truth about the prophecy from Sybill Trelawney by accident, even after what went down in the Ministry of Magic. Her mind wandered over the conversation they had on Harry’s birthday.

“But I also think that some of the decisions that are for the benefit of the cause may not be in the best interest of the individuals involved. I also believe the headmaster is overly fond of secrets, portioning out knowledge to a point of being manipulative with what he reveals. I believe if he truly trusted the abilities and the decisions of those around him he would not feel the need of handling them like this. I think he is not infallible, neither is he omniscient, which means his plans can go wrong. And when they do, there is no one with enough knowledge to try to help fix things.” Professor Snape was considering her as if he suddenly saw her in a completely new light. He did not respond immediately, the minutes of silence stretched between them with weird tension.

“That is uncharacteristically Slytherin of you Miss Granger. Very well, you have my word, I shall not reveal the headmaster’s secret. No, do not tell me who else knows, it is better if I do not know. For now, finish supervising and bottling the pepperup potion. Do not forget to add the date and name to the labels.” He stood, folding the book under his arm. “We will continue our scheduled potions preparation tomorrow, and I will let you know what I have found once I can confirm my suspicions” he said, then turned on his heel and billowed out of the room. Hermione looked after him with a mixture of relief, regret and hopeful anticipation. If anyone could come up with such a potion, it would be professor Snape.

\---

Hermione spent a couple more hours bottling the potion into small vials. By the time she finished writing all the stickers, her hands were cramping, but looking at the results of her work filled her with a mix of pride and satisfaction. She locked up the lab a bit early, and headed upstairs to see what her friends were up to, hoping to catch up with them.

They were all sitting in on the floor of Harry’s bedroom, and Fred was busy with handing out what looked like small water cups.

“Hey, Hermione” Ron looked up with a genuine happy smile. “You are just in time! We were about to play magical ‘Never have I ever’.”

She frowned suspiciously. “Isn’t that a drinking game?”

“It is” George confirmed.

“But we are not playing with alcohol” Fred explained.

“Mum would probably not be happy if we got you little mignons drunk.”

“And she would suspect us.”

“Immediately.”

“Wonder why.”

“But… if you are not using alcohol, then…”

“It is simple. You need to drink a glass off water each time. The first who needs to go to the loo loses the game” Ginny explained, her hand caressing Harry’s calf.

“So you should probably start with a bathroom break” Harry added.

After a short detour to the lady’s room Hermione settled on the floor between Ron and George. Fred handed her a white, plastic-looking cup.

“So, the rules are simple. We take turns of coming up with a Never have I ever. If someone had done that before, their cup will turn red and they have to drink. If you come up with something no one has done, you have to take a drink, even if you had not done it either.”

“Like, if you said you never kissed the queen of England” Harry interjected. “No one has, but you need to drink.”

“Ok, I start” Fred grinned. “Hm… Never have I ever had a crush on a teacher.” The cups of Hermione and George turned red. She heard Ron mutter _*cough*_ Lockhart _*cough*._

“Oh, for heavens sake” she rolled her eyes, downing her water. “I was thirteen. But who did you have a crush on, George?”

“Professor Carver” he answered with a wide grin. “She was the defence against the dark ats teacher in out first year. She was not much to look at, but she had these amazing, round, spellbinding buttocks. Downright enchanting.”

“Ewww” Ron made a face. “Too much information.”

“My turn then George ginned. “Never have I ever run through Hogwarts’ corridors naked.” This time it was Fred’s cup that turned red.

“I do not know what surprises me more, that Fred has or that George hasn’t” Ginny snickered.

“Care to share?” Harry asked.

“It will suffice to say, that one should not enter bets when not completely sober. Mignons, learn from the mistakes of the wiser people.” Hermione snorted. “Your turn” he added turning towards her.

“Ok, never have I ever been on a quidditch team” she said. All the other cups turned red, and her friends drank.

“Good one. Now… let’s see” Ron frowned, thinking. “Never have I ever been invited to a Slug club party.” Hermione, Ginny and Harry had to drink to that.

“Never have I ever stolen a Hogwarts toilet seat” Ginny offered.

“Oh, that was a low blow” George grinned, tipping back his glass.

“It was a gift for Harry” Fred added. “Why does he not have to drink?”

“I never got it, madam Pomfrey confiscated it” he explained. “Ok, my turn. Never have I ever set a teacher’s robes on fire.” Hermione blushed at the memory, and wasn’t really surprised when the cups of Fred and George also turned red.

“In my defence” said Fred “It was an accident in Charms class. Poor Flitwick did not deserve it.”

“In my defence, it was totally on purpose” George grinned. “And Umbridge deserved it, and more. Cheers!” The twins chinked their glasses together and drank. “So what did you do, Hermione?”

“In our first year I thought Professor Snape was trying to hurt Harry, so I set his robes on fire” she admitted, drinking her share of water.

“Merlin’s hairy nipples, that is daring” Ginny commented.

“You said that” George nodded. “You are a girl, but you may have bigger balls than all of us together.”

“Well, I thought I was saving Harry, which made sense at the heat of the moment, but it was really stupid, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe a touch suicidal, but nothing a Gryffindor should be ashamed of” Ron patted her shoulder.

“Let’s see” it was Fred’s turn. “Never have I ever went to a divination class.” Harry, Ron and Hermione had to drink, while the others grinned.

“To be honest, I am more ashamed of this than having a crush on Lockhart” Hermione admitted, tipping her glass back.

“Ginny had it easy” Ron whined. “After the horrid tales we were telling she knew not to try.”

“Percy and Bill did take divination” she interrupted. “You could have asked them for advice before you just singed up for some crap. I did talk to Hermione about what she thought of her classes, you have no excuse to whine.”

“And you willingly continued to take divination for a second year” Hermione added.

“Ok, ok, guilty as charged. George, your turn.”

“To be fair, Bill was no longer in school” George offered.

“And Percy is a pompous prick” Fred added.

“And no one has ever accused of academic prowess. It could have been worse, Ron could have been good at divination.” The others snickered. “Ok, never have I ever been a prefect or head boy” he exchanged a high five with his twin as all the others had to take a shot.

“Never have I ever snuck into the Slytherin common room” Hermione announced. To her surprise not only the cups of Ron and Harry turned red, but Ginny’s too.

“Ginny…?” Ron asked with his jaw hanging open.

“No comment” she answered, throwing her water back. “I am surprised though that you did not do it, Fred, George.”

“Wasn’t for lack of trying” Gorge said with a shudder.

“Snape caught us” Fred explained. “It was not pleasant. And we decided it was not worth another try.”

“Yeah, I do not think ‘Snape’ and ‘pleasant’ go in the same sentence” Ron agreed, and drank his water. “Never have I ever been to the girls dormitory” Ron claimed. This time it was Ginny’s, Hermione’s and the twins turn to drink. “Fred? George? You… did? But how? I thought the castle was warded against boys getting into a girls dormitory” Ron seemed confused.

“Oh my young little apprentice, it is simple. We were girls at the time.”

“And we had a lot of fun.”

“What kind of fun?” Ginny asked, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Now, a gentleman does not kiss and tell.”

“Not that we are gentlemen.”

“Not that we kissed anyone.” They exchanged a high-five again.

Looking at the face of her brother Ginny added “Ron, you go down that line of thought, and I will curse you so badly, you will never find your balls again.” He gulped.

“She can be really scary” Fred admitted.

“Makes me think of mum” Ron added, picking at the collar of his T-shirt.

Ginny tried to get more information out of the twins, but it was like trying to talk to Peeves. Eventually, she gave up. “Ok, Never have I ever peed in the shower” she said. To Hermione’s distaste all the boys had to take a drink. At least Harry and Ron blushed in embarrassment.

“That is just gross” Hermione grimaced.

“Boys” Ginny agreed.

“Ok, never have I ever used someone else’s wand” Harry said quickly, trying to move the conversation to safer waters. This time the cups of the twins, Hermione and Ron turned red.

“I have been using Bill’s old wand for the two first years…” Ron muttered.

“Yeah, your wand obliviating Lockhart was unforgettable” Harry grinned.

“… but what about you guys?”

“We switch regularly” Fred answered as if he was stating the obvious.

“Because we can.”

“And because it is fun to confuse people who is who.”

“That makes sense, but you, Hermione?”

“It was an experiment for educational purpose” She answered vaguely. She decided to make the topic uninteresting by adding dry sounding research. She was not one bit ashamed that she was allowed to borrow professor Snape’s wand for one single spell, but she did think he would not appreciate the information divulged. “I have red a theory about wand-magic, and the relationship between a wizard and their own wands versus one of a family member, friend, acquaintance or even enemy, comparing the effectiveness of the performed curses, and I wanted to see how the theory could be applied in practice.” By the end she finished the sentence Ron was looking at her glassy-eyed.

She made a mental note to talk to the boys when they were in private and try to see how their magics worked together, like the professor suggested.

“That teaches me to ask questions” Ron grumbled. “Quick Fred, it is your turn before she tells us about the expectations, results and analysis of the experiment.” Hermione grinned, and punched him gently in the shoulder.

“Ok, never have I ever had a memory refresher potion.”

“That’s… that’s it!” Harry jumped up, looking excited. Hermione recognised the feeling of pieces of puzzles falling into their places. “I am sorry, I have to go.” He ran out of the room.

“Does that mean he lost?” asked Ron. Everyone seemed to be surprised by the sudden departure.

“Yes! He lost!” Exclaimed Fred. “And now if you excuse me, I have some very serious business to attend to” he run for the bathroom.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Neither the world or the characters are mine, I merely borrowed the to have a bit of fun. When I am finished, I will return them slightly used.  
> \-----
> 
> Special thanks for the reviews for:
> 
> buttons1721   
> Tobi_Black  
> AsongintheWind   
> hlharriss   
> WTFic

Next morning when professor Snape ushered Hermione into the potions lab there were already ingredients piled on the work benches, boomslang skin and powdered bicorn horn among other things.

“Oh, are we making polyjuice potion?” she asked excited.

“Pray tell, how would you know that, Miss Granger” he asked silkily. She blushed a deep red, she had really walked into that, didn’t she?

“You did mention the potion in our second year, sir” she tried carefully.

“Indeed. Though I do not recall giving instructions on the preparation, or even mention the necessary ingredients” the corner of his lips curved up in a near smile. “And if I remember correctly, _Moste potente potions_ is to be found in the restricted section.”

“We learned some more details from professor Slughorn last year?” she sounded uncertain.

“Miss Granger, you are a terrible liar” he said with a sigh. “Do you truly believe that I do not know what you did in your second year? Boomslang skin and powdered bicorn horn went missing from my private stocks, and a month later you turn up in the hospital wing covered in cat hair. It did not take a genius to put one plus one together.” She felt her face burn in shame.

“I am so sorry professor” she meant it. “We were convinced we could use it to uncover who the heir of Slytherin was.”

“Would you care to explain how turning yourself into some kind of half cat helped? Did you hope to literally sniff out the culprit?” She did not think it was possible to get any more embarrassed.

“That was an accident, I did not intend to use a cat hair” she explained.

“No matter, this time around you will see how to properly brew the potion.”

“I did brew the potion properly” she said indignantly. “It worked for Harry and Ron just fine, and I thought I was using human hair instead of animal.”

“Ah, I was unaware you had accomplices. I guess I should have thought of that. Who did Mr Potter and Mr Weasley impersonate?” he asked with an arch of an eyebrow. She realised she has just unwittingly incriminated her friends. Too late. Could she embarrass herself any more in front of professor Snape?

“Well, Crab and Goyle” she admitted. “Harry was certain Draco was the heir of Slytherin” she explained.

“Ah, that explains how Messers Crab and Goyle ended up knocked out and locked in a broom cupboard. You do realise, Miss Granger, that were we at Hogwarts, this would have some serious consequences? Losing a few hundred house points would be just the tip of the ice-berg, you could get expelled over this” he regarded her solemnly. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Professor, you would not…” she suddenly felt dizzy. Her heart fluttered in her throat, and the world concentrated itself to a tiny spot. She failed as a witch. If she got expelled, she would fail Harry and could not use magic. She failed a friend, as…

“No, Miss Granger I will not” he said with a sigh, breaking through her racing thoughts. He gently steered her into a chair by her shoulders before she fell over. Once she was seated, he strode to the other side of the working bench, and sat down across from her. He put his elbows on the table, the tips of his fingers touched against each other. The gesture reminded her a lot of the headmaster, eyes twinkling over a tent of fingers.

“I have no intention to see any of you expelled, Miss Granger. It would make keeping Potter alive significantly more difficult.” She sagged in relief. She let out a trembling breath she did not notice she was holding “I have to admit, that you have matured quite a lot since you arrived at Hogwarts and nearly fell out of your chair each time I asked a question, but your tendency of showing off what you know and how you excel at everything did not change much.” He parted and tapped his fingers together repeatedly while talking. Belated she realised he just also paid her a compliment. “Given my perilous circumstances I could hardly lecture you on the dangers of what you were doing, but I felt the need to impress upon this for your own safety. As this short exercise pointed it out spectacularly, I failed to achieve my goal.” She suddenly felt a huge weight of shame settling on her shoulders. She has failed his test ‘spectacularly’. “Now, let us go over what happened, and where it went wrong and why, and discuss how you could have handled it differently.” She pulled herself up, trying to blink away unshed tears. This may have been only an exercise for professor Snape, but the danger of being expelled seemed very real to her, especially coming from him.

“Well, I should not have mentioned I realised we were going to brew polyjuice potion” she said. “I just got over-excited at the prospect of brewing such a complex potion together. I have learned so much in the last few weeks, and it was so exciting, I guess I forgot for a second that you were still my Hogwarts professor and the potion was kind of illegal.”

“Thus, you got comfortable in my presence” he mused. “I do suggest that you don’t share this with others, they might feel the need to refer you to St Mungo’s.” Did he just make a joke? “Lucky for you, I mean you no harm, so there will be no negative, lasting consequences. This was, or could have been a mistake, but it could still be salvaged. What was your second mistake?”

“I could not come up with a good lie?”

“You tried to lie about something that I also had memories of. I have been teaching the same potions syllabus for fifteen years, I do know that I did not teach the specifics of a potion. You could have gotten away with lying about Slughorn, but you have actually stopped trying, you sounded more like a question. More like, would you believe it if I told you I learned it from Slughorn? If you had told me you did special research for him on human transformations for extra credit, it would have been convincing. You do a lot of extra credit work, and I have no way of knowing what you did or did not hand in to Slughorn. If you need to lie, go for something that the other person did not experience first-hand. What was your next mistake?”

“I gave Ron and Harry up” she buried her face in her hands. “You knew about me, because I was in the hospital wing, but you did not know about Harry and Ron. Though you probably did guess. I wanted to prove so badly to you that I was not a failure in potion brewing, that I did not think.”

“Indeed. You were so anxious that I would think less of you because you may have failed to brew a single potion in your second year, while you have completed all the potions in my classroom without fail. Not to mention that polyjuice potion is way beyond NEWT level, and even failing at it right now would not be something to be ashamed of” his voice was matter-of fact, lacking his usual sarcasm. “Can you please explain it to me why you feel the need to prove yourself?” he asked not unkindly.

She probably knew the answer to this one. Her childhood was not bad, per se. She was never beaten, never had to go hungry or without a roof over her head. She even knew her parents loved her, they were just not so good at showing it. Her parents have noticed how gifted she was at a very early age. She started school at the ripe old age of five, and already knew how to read (albeit slowly) and add up and subtract up to a hundred before her first year. They had high expectations, and she had the brain power to match those. Being a straight A student was expected, normal, and nothing to write home about, anything less than an A was a reason to be punished. She was the kid who would cry for an A-, and it did not make her popular with the other kids. Scratch that, they were cruel to her, she was an outcast among them, the last one to be picked for a game, one never invited to a birthday party. She was lonely, desperate for a little praise, and she went the only way she knew how to get it, by showing her parents that she was so much better, so much smarter than her peers. The approval of her teachers was the only positive feedback she got, which made her the teacher’s pet, even less popular, bullied. In turn, she craved the praise from her teachers even more, generating a vicious circle.

By the time she came to Hogwarts, she was twelve, she has spent most of her young life in school, and was thoroughly conditioned to be a show-off know-it-all. A praise from a teacher was her greatest comfort for her practically her whole little life. Even the Hogwarts professors have responded with praise to her eagerness. She was so lucky to have had that troll incident in the first year, and make friends with Harry and Ron. She could not even imagine where she would have ended up without their friendship. Now she was nearly eighteen, six years later. She had a few friends, and positive feedback from her teachers was not the only source of happiness and human bonding she had, it still mattered too much. Getting an Exceeding Expectations still filled her with a heavy fear, like a punishment hanging over her head, something bad to come. She was no longer completely stuck in her vicious circle, but she was not quite out yet either. Come to think of it, professor Snape was the only one who never gave her the time of the day, the only one who did not feed her compulsion, though that only made her want to prove herself to him even more.

But she could not tell him any of this. This was way too personal.

“It makes me feel… anxious when I do not excel” she admitted.

“You should try to figure out for yourself why, and try to work on it “ he said with a sigh, folding his arms. “The reason I have scheduled this little experiment today is, that I think your idea of trapping fiendfyre in a potion should work. However, this is very dangerous knowledge, something that could get you killed. It is imperative that you learn to not show off the skills that you learn here. It would raise unwanted questions and jeopardize my mission too. Do you understand that?”

“Yes sir.”

“It may be of some help if I explain something to you. Unlike most of your dim-witted classmates, you are already aware that knowledge is power. What you need to understand that there are two different kinds of knowledge. The first type, you excel at soaking up. Knowledge that is to be found in books. Spells, potions, charms, history. This can be extremely useful and can save lives. From our conversation yesterday I have concluded that you have just started to recognise the importance of the second type of knowledge. Normally I would encourage a student to explore this on their own, but we are in the middle of a war, thus you will need a crash cursus. The second type of knowledge is what you know of other people and what other people know of you. Let’s take the example of Black.” He sneered at his name. “There are not many animagi, and his ability to turn into mangy cur is rather useful, because he is an unregistered animagus. Had it been well-know what he is capable of, he would have been put into a differently warded cell in Azkaban, Filius would have charmed the Hogwarts entrances to recognise his animal form, and it would have given him little advantage. “

“Thus, by showing what I can do in the classroom, I am giving our enemies a heads up, letting them know what to prepare for if they want to harm us” she concluded.

“In short, yes. I think it is high time you start to build up a reservoir of surprises for our enemies. It would not hurt if you could encourage Potter and Weasley to do the same, preferably without knowing what the others are doing, so that you cannot give each other away.” Hermione nodded, hundreds of thoughts running through her head.

“Sir, would you please give me some lessons in lying?”

“Are you insinuating something, Miss Granger?”

“Only that you are a spy who survived reporting on the activities of You-know-who. You must be a the ultimate Slytherin, a master-deceiver.”

“Flattery will not get you anywhere, Miss Granger” he said, the corners of his mouth pulling up into one of his not-quite-smiles. He reached into his robes, and pulled out a very small and thin book. Apparently, he expected her to ask. She doubted he carried a library around in his robes. “Here, read this” he handed it over. The cover was green, looked like soft leather, emblazoned with silver letters: _The art of bending the truth_. “Tomorrow we will play two truths and a lie to see how well you understood it.”

“Thank you, sir” she took it gingerly. “Does this mean we are not going to brew polyjuice potion?” she sounded a touch disappointed.

“We are. Polyjuice is an extremely useful potion to have in stock in a war. A Slytherin usually has more than one reason for doing something. Now, I suggest you start chopping ingredients.” With renewed excitement, she hopped of her chair and started to work.

During her preparation time she allowed her mind to wander. This lesson was very different from the previous ones. Those were instructions in potion making. This felt more like how to be a Slytherin. She found it both more exciting and more scary. Exciting because this was what it was like to grow up, to take a step into the real world, to truly join the war effort. She felt a touch pride that he though her mature enough to teach her, well politics. At the same time it scared her for the same reason. This was no schoolwork. This was very real, the stakes so much higher.

She kept peeling and crushing absentmindedly. His advice made perfect sense. It felt like something he must have learned through experience and offering her a shortcut. But this was also not something she could just sit down and memorise. It wasn’t just history of magic, that if you red enough times you would just remember at the right time. This was not something you could test yourself on or practice, which made it all the scarier. Once she finished peeling the last one of her shrivelfig, she announced she would go and get them coffee.

She was pouring the cream into he cup of professor Snape, when the kitchen door opened, and Harry walked in. His clothes and hair looked slightly singed.

“Hey, Harry” she smiled. “What happened to you?”

“Hermione, good to see you” he walked up to her, leaning against the counter. “I am as well as you can be after a half day of crazy side-along apparitions.” He gave her a tired smile.

“What happened to your hair?” she pulled the tray a bit further from her friend to make sure there would be no singed clothes pieces falling into the beverage. Professor Snape preferred his coffee with cinnamon, not singed celebrity accessories.

“I was not careful enough” he admitted with a blush. “I have set off a ward in a museum by accident. Lucky that professor Dumbledore was there to put the fire out.”

“Do you need something for burns?” her mind went to the burn slave they brewed in the dungeon a few weeks ago.

“No, thank you. I got off with a minor singe of hairs” he lifted his arm to his nose and gave a sniff. “Eww, I smell like burned hair. But it does not hurt.”

“That is lucky at least. Did you get what you went for?”

“Kind of. We did get the book professor Dumbledore wanted, but the pages he needed were missing. He will run some diagnostics to see who may have taken the missing parts, and when he is ready, off we go, trying to find them. I just asked for a short break to change into something without holes in it. Maybe a very quick shower too, burned hair stinks. Hey, are you making coffee for the dungeon bat?” his eyes fall onto the tray, and sneaked one of the butter cookies away.

“Harry James Potter! Stop calling him that. Professor Snape is on our side, and deserves our respect for his work as a spy” Hermione ranted. “He risks his lives for us daily. You will address him with his proper title when I am around.” He looked downright shocked.

“I am sorry Mrs Weasley” he mumbled sheepishly. “Are you making coffee for professor Snape?”

“Yes, for the two of us” she took the cookie bin out of the cupboard to replace the one her friend was munching on.

“Do not tell me he drinks his coffee with cream” he scoffed.

“Of course not, that is mine.”

“It has a weird colour” he remarked.

“There is some cinnamon in it” she explained.

“I thought you took your coffee black” he answered and popped the last of the butter cookie in his mouth.

“I am trying something new. Did you know that cinnamon was good for increasing blood flow to your brain? Helps you concentrate more.” To show Harry that the cup with the sweet brew was truly for her, she took a few sips.

“That sounds like you” Harry laughed.

“Would you like to try?” Hermione offered him the cup, hoping she would not have to finish all the toe-curling sweetness.

“Why not, it could only help, right?” he took the mug from her hand and took a careful sip. “Blimey, Hermione this is good! This is really good. I usually do not like coffee much, but the spice of the cinnamon just really sets it off, and the cream makes it so soft and silky, and the sugar turns it into a real treat. You should experiment more in the kitchen!” he exclaimed.

“I am glad you like it” she smiled. “Keep it, you are on the tight time schedule, I can make some more for myself.” She hoped with all her might that Harry would drink it up so she did not have to.

“Wow, thanks, I owe you one” he grinned taking a large gulp with gusto. Hermione placed a new filter in the coffee maker and set to make a fresh cup. “This was the best coffee I ever had. Next time you need to show me how you made it” he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and tipped back the last of his drink. “I have to run now” he said setting the empty cup on the kitchen counter. “See you around” he jogged out of the kitchen with a wave of his hand.

Hermione brewed a new cup of coffee, seasoned it the way professor Snape liked it, and levitated the tray down to the lab.

“Did you loose your way to the kitchen, Miss Granger?” the potions professor asked as she closed the door behind her. She refrained from rolling her eyes at him.

“No sir. Harry just came back from a mission with the headmaster, and he saw me pouring cream into one of the cups. I told him it was mine, and that the cinnamon increases brain activity.”

“Indeed it does, but I fail to see how that has anything to do with your tardiness.”

“He wanted to try it. While I have shared a cup with my friends before, I had a hunch that you would be less than happy to do so. Lucky enough he absolutely loved it, and I offered him to take it, and proceeded to brew another cup for you.”

“Ah, I see. I indeed prefer my beverage without added saliva from Mr Potter.” he remarked. Not that Hermione actually expected an apology. “And had Mr Potter not liked it?” he asked picking up his coffee from the tray.

“Then I would have forced it down with a smile.”

“How very Gryffindor of you” he said with a small smirk.

“Of course it is. I am your knight in shining armour, guarding your secret at the cost of my taste buds” she answered with a bright smile. Professor Snape snorted in his coffee.

\---

To Hermione’s dismay the next morning she found another note from professor Snape that he would be out of town for a while. He left the polyjuice potion in her care, which would have been way more exciting had it not needed three days of undisturbed shimmering. He even had the gall to write _‘I trust it is not beyond your abilities to leave it alone’._ She decided to use her newfound freedom to copy the contents of _The art of bending the truth_. There was a handy little spell in her new charms school book, the useful everyday charms, that would copy a page from one book onto an empty sheet. Two birds with one stone, she learned and practiced a new spell, and she made a copy of the book. She had a feeling that this was the sort of reading material that you did not just go through it and memorise it. This was something to be digested slowly and return to it over and over.

She hoped to help Harry in the garden a bit, to have a chance of catching up with him, but he was helping professor Dumbledore to hunt down the missing pages of the book. According to him it contained a detailed description of a jewellery set that Rowena Ravenclaw once owned: a tiara, a bracelet, a necklace and a pair of earrings. Given how You-know-Who has been obsessed with the founders, it was a good chance he would want to get his reptilian fingers on these too. Ron was still busy going through the Malfoy collection with _Remus,_ and Ginny was away with Mrs Weasley buying groceries.

This is how the afternoon found her alone in the kitchen, making different cookies. Ever since she learned that professor Snape had a sweet tooth, she was tempted to ask if he had any favourites. She was neither stupid or Gryffindor enough to do so, thus she decided to make a bunch of different ones, and offer them all on a plate with the coffee next time. She hoped to observe which one he would pick. She felt downright Slytherin. She was just taking the chocolate chip cookies out of the oven, when the door opened, and professor McGonagall walked in.

“Ah, Molly, that smells delicious. I was looking for you, I have a… oh, Miss Granger.”

“Good afternoon professor” she smiled cheerfully, placing the oven pan onto the gas. “I am afraid Mrs Weasley is out grocery shopping. Would you care for some fresh cookies in the meantime? Tea or coffee?”

“Oh, well, I am not in a hurry” she smiled and sat down at the kitchen table. “A cup of tea would be nice.”

Hermione placed plates for both of them on the table, and grabbed a bigger cookie plate. She scooped a few ginger snaps on it, placed a couple of brownies on one corner, added some of the chocolate chip cookies, put coconut macaroons in the other corner and placed some cinnamon rolls in the middle. She grabbed a couple of cups, filled them with the augmenti charm, and poked her wand at them to bring them to boil. She placed them onto the table, and dug out a box of tea from the cupboard. She placed the cookies in front of her head of house before sitting down across from her.

“Now, you have been busy, Miss Granger” she said choosing a macaroon from the plate.

“I just wanted to try something different” she said with a slight blush. No need to tell her teacher the whole truth. She picked out a brownie for herself. “Besides, there will be an order meeting soon. I have a feeling that there will be heroic people in attendance who will sacrifice themselves and help with demolishing all of this.”

“I am certain that the non-order residents will be also enthusiastic to help” professor McGonagall chuckled, and took a bite. “Mmm, these are excellent Miss Granger. I guess I should not be surprised, you do excel in nearly everything you put your mind to.” Her head of house gave her a proud smile, Hermione blushed a deep crimson.

“Thank you professor. Do you have a favourite kind of cookie?”

“Are you trying to bribe me, or butter me up?” she asked, looking over her square glasses. “I am rather fond of shortbread.”

“Yes, I mean no… I mean…” she brushed hair out of her face with a hand. “I still have some time before the boys are back, and if I get to make something more, why not something that I know at least someone would enjoy? Though that is just a courtesy, not a bribe. Though I did want to talk to you about your offer of training me as an animagus, professor. But these two have nothing to do with each other.” To her surprise McGonagall chuckled.

“I know, my dear. You are no Slytherin, and if you were, you would come up with a better bribe than cookies.” She rubbed her fingers together to get rid of any crumbs left on them. “So, what did you wish to discuss?”

“I… professor, would you still be willing to tutor me, if I decided not to register in the animagus registry?” professor McGonagall look surprised and slightly disappointed.

“Miss Granger, what you are suggesting is highly illegal.”

“I know, professor. I am sorry, I know I have no right to ask this of you. But I was thinking and I realised, that this is my last year of Hogwarts. This is the last few months I get to play a student, that I can pretend I am not a grownup, and…”

“Miss Granger, you are not a grownup” she chided her.

“Actually, according to the wizarding laws, I am. In about a month, I will be eighteen, and count as an adult in the muggle world too. Not to mention the amount of time I aged using the the time-turner I was given in my third year. While it does not make me officially any older, it did give me quite some extra time that year, and in reality, I am going to be nineteen. Maybe a young adult, but definitely not a child anymore. We live in a war, professor, and in a year Hogwarts won’t protect me anymore. I will have to stand on my own, I will have to face our enemies, and I have to survive what they can throw at me. I do not have the luxury to bury my head in the sand. I know that many of our enemies have decades more of knowledge, practice and experience on me and I only have a chance of getting away or win if I can surprise them, if I can pull a trick from my hat they do not expect. Being an animagus is of little use if people know about it and can prepare to counter it. I am already involved in this war, I am a target as the friend of Harry Potter and as the muggleborn who outperformed her pureblood peers in school. If you agree to teach me, I do promise to register once the war is over.”

“I apologise, Miss Granger” she was surprised to hear the reaction of professor McGonagall. The older witch leaned back in her chair, rubbing her cheek. “Being a teacher is not an eight to five job. We feel responsible for those under our care even outside of schooltime and classes. After so many years it is nearly instinctive to look out for my students, and well, treat them as children as a result. You are right, you cannot pretend you are not in danger. I cannot protect my students forever, but I can try to give them the tools they would need to survive. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you that I could have prevented with very little danger to myself. My offer to tutor you still stands, regardless whether you decide to register or not.”

“Thank you professor. I truly appreciate your help.”

“You are welcome, my dear. In the end this plan has very little personal risk for me, and sometimes the right thing to do is not necessary legal” she smiled and took a sip of her tea. “But should you ever need to bribe me, I am not known to say no to a box of shortbread and a bottle of scotch.”

Hermione giggled. “Would you like a bit of firewhiskey in your tea, professor? I know where Sirius keeps his secret stash.”

“Perhaps I would like a bit of tea in my whiskey. It would certainly help to come up with a transfiguration project for you that is close enough to an animagus transformation that you need not do double work, and different enough that no one would suspect.”

“Hm, it’s not here” Hermione said rummaging through the cabinet.

“Try it behind the soup bowl, my dear.”

“Found it” Hermione splashed a generous amount of whiskey in professor McGonagall’s tea, and added just a touch to her own before returning the bottle to where she found it. When she sat back down to the table, they chinked their cups together.

“To a successful transfiguration project” her teacher said.


	8. Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Neither the world or the characters are mine, I merely borrowed the to have a bit of fun. When I am finished, I will return them slightly used.  
> \-----  
> Special thanks for the reviews for:
> 
> hlharriss  
> buttons1721  
> Tobi_Black  
> Amortentia426  
> Yaya3850  
> cancaleblue 
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> And everyone who left me kudos. Feedback makes a writer happy :)

“I have a cat. The maiden name of my mother is Carver. I have never been to Spain.” True to his word, Professor Snape tested her understanding of bending the truth through a simple game of two truths and a lie. Predictably, she was losing terribly, but she enjoyed the opportunity of taking a peak under his armour. More often than not his truths and lies were impersonal, but it gave her a rare chance to learn a little bit of something about him from time to time.

“I have seen that ball of orange fur streaking through the house more than one occasion, and I happen to have seen your Hogwarts file, and I do know your mother’s maiden name happens to be Helen Jane Carver. Thus, you must have been to Spain. Really, Miss Granger, I expected better from you after all this practice.” He looked at her disapprovingly, but Hermione grinned with glee.

“Well, Professor, I have never been to Spain. Also, I do not own a cat, I own a half-kneazle. I believe, that is a point for me?”

“Indeed. Which makes it twenty-seven to one?” he asked with a smirk.

“It does” she agreed. “One day I will even that score out.” He snorted.

“You can always hope that I would get demented in my old days and have a chance for that. It is my turn, I believe. I have never exploded a cauldron. Last Christmas I got a pair of Gryffindor socks from Minerva. There have been twenty-three female ministers of magic to date.”

“I can imagine professor McGonagall handing out Gryffindor socks” she mused. The idea of the dour potions master sporting Gryffindor socks under his black robes made her want to smile like a maniac. “With all due respect, I cannot imagine that you have never exploded a cauldron sir. I know that you make a lot of modifications to existing potions, and I cannot imagine that no single experiment has ever gone wrong.” She had no idea how many ministers of magic there were, the position dated back to the sixteenth century. She did like reading, but contrary to popular belief, her head was not a library.

“Incorrect, Miss Granger. I have to admit that I have melted three cauldrons, caused one to be dissolved, and another two to rust through and start leaking, and more than once I had to vanish the concoction just before it exploded, but to this day I have never exploded a cauldron.” He cast a calculating look at her. “And I do wish to keep it like that.”

“Of course, professor” she said with a huff. “I am neither Ron or Harry.” She bit her lip, thinking hard. “But then which one is a lie?” she asked, studying his face for any tell-tale signs. There were none. He remained impassive, his dark eyes sparkling with intelligence. She could not hold his gaze too long, there was a very real weight to it. “I guess twenty-three female ministers of magic sounds an awful lot, there could not have been that many.”

“Incorrect, again, Miss Granger. I never got Gryffindor socks from anyone. I received a bottle of scotch and a gift coupon for potions ingredients from Minerva.” Hermione tried to imagine his reaction if someone presented him with red and gold socks. Probably better not to try. “That brings us to twenty-eight to one” he smirked. “Your assessment that some of my experiments must have gone badly was correct. When listening for a lie, details can be essential. Had I said I have never destroyed a cauldron, it would have been untrue. Have I said I never exploded a potion it would not have been true. When you need to mislead, adding or leaving off small details can make all the difference. A good lie has a pinch of truth and just a little bit of detail, enough to make it feel real, but not too much to make the lie inflexible. Give that a try.”

She chewed her lower lip, thinking.

“Starting Dumbledore’s Army was my idea. When I was six years old, I wanted to be a librarian. I can speak six languages.” Professor Snape considered her, tapping his finger against his mouth. She had already noticed it was a habit of his when he was thinking hard about something, she must have done a better job this time around.

“You never specified how well you can speak those six languages, Miss Granger” he said with a smirk. That was nearly a praise from him. “But I believe it was Potter who founded the infamous little resistance of yours.” Hermione grinned triumphantly.

“Well, he did, but he did not come up with the idea. I really had to talk him into it. And I never wanted to become a librarian. When I was six, I wanted to be a ballerina. Sure, I did love books, because they could take me to a whole different world, where I could be famous, popular, beautiful, talented… well, I wanted that for real. Not all little girls wish to be princesses, pony trainers, actresses, hair dressers or fashion designers, but many do.”

“Well, forgive me my oversight, I have never been a little girl.” The corner of his lips tugged up in a near-smile.

“Well, most girls grow out of that eventually. Two years later I wanted to become a maxillofacial surgeon.”

“I do not suppose your parents had anything to do with your change of heart” he snorted derisively. Hermione wasn’t sure why she was surprised about his insightful remark. While professor Snape seemingly showed very little interest in others, he had to have good understanding of what motivated people and how they thought and reacted if he was to be a successful spy. She wanted to kick herself that she has not thought of that before. His cold exterior was an excellent armour that did hide a lot of who he truly was.

“Nothing whatsoever. I just went to sleep one night wanting to be a ballerina, and had this beautiful dream about putting people’s face back together after a bloody accident, and I immediately knew my calling” she answered in a deadpan tone. “Still this makes it twenty-eight to two.”

He smirked. “Indeed. There is yet hope for a Gryffindor. Let’s see. Curry is not my favourite spice. I hold the highest OWL potions scores for the last fifty-two years. I own a pair of pink underpants” It was lucky she has not started the ingredient preparation yet, because she would have certainly chopped her own finger at that statement. Judging by the smug look on his face, this was exactly the reaction he was hoping for. To make a better liar she would probably need acting lessons too. And maybe she could play against first year Hufflepuffs to have a better chance at winning.

She happened to know he told her the truth of his OWL scores. Hers was the best in fifteen years, she has checked. “I… I know that the last statement is probably missing a lot of details and is a ploy to make me scandalised while it is a mild truth, but I just have to ask about it” she said with morbid curiosity, and blushed a deep red. Maybe a prank gift from someone?

“I suggest to get your mind out of the gutter, Miss Granger” he drawled, as if it had not been him who pushed her mind there. “For your information this was the lie, the intention being that you would suspect an outrageous truth to divert you from a mild lie, not that there is anything wrong with a unusually coloured underwear. But this brings me to the next point: how people perceive a statement also depends on the circumstances where they were uttered. When in doubt, it can help to try to extract them from the situation, and examine them from different points of views and other angles. Consider whether you would believe the same statement if you heard it from someone else or in a different situation. Had we not been playing this simplistic game, you would have never considered that I would share something this personal with a student of mine.”

“I should have realised that.” Hermione admitted, her cheeks burning.

“Indeed.”

“Do I get a point though?”

“Of course not” he smirked. “You believed the statement to be true. That makes it twenty-nine to two. Your last turn, make it count, Miss Granger.” If she dared to judge by his expression, he was having a grand time confusing her.

“I am terrified of flying. My birthday is 21 September. I have built a snow man three years ago.”

“It is a well-known fact, that you are terrified of flying” he answered. “However, I cannot imagine that with the short attention span of Weasley and Potter you actually managed to finish a snowman. Devolved into a snowball fight, more likely.”

“Well, I did build that snowman using magic. It was a practice for the Charms exams controlling the movements of the snowball back and forth with a wand” she explained. “It was a very nice snowman too, four layers, horns of branches, I even gave it some scary teeth with…”

“Fascinating.”

“Oh, well” she blushed. “My point is, Harry, Ron and I are friends, but we are not grown together, we do things alone too.” That happened during the winter of the Triwizard tournament, and Ron refused to talk to her because she was ‘fraternising with the enemy’, but professor Snape did not need to know that. “And as for the flying, yes, I used to find it terrifying, but that was before I learned how to apparate. Last year I have done a lot of reading on the theory of flying, aerodynamics and magic spells. I know I can apparate to safety if I started to fall, I know how to cast a levitation charm on myself if needed, and I know an anti-gravitational spell too. I still do not like flying, nor am I good at it, but it no longer scares me. People can change.”

“Fair enough. It brings us to twenty-nine to three then. Here is your last puzzle. My favourite quidditch team is the Tornadoes. My favourite food is shepherd pie. My favourite book is _Gone with the wind._ ”

Hermione pondered her options carefully. Professor Snape seemed like the intelligent and literally type to appreciate _Gone with the wind,_ that would probably be true. But she never paid attention to his eating habits before and she had very little knowledge of quidditch, she usually zoned out when her friends got too deep into the topic.

“I guess _Gone with the wind_ is your favourite, sir?”

“No, Miss Granger, it is not.” To her disappointment he did not elaborate and share what his true favourite was.

“Thus, you support the Tornadoes and love shepherd pie?” It did not seem to suit him.

“No, I do not care about quidditch, and have no favourite team, and while I find shepherd pie to be acceptable, it is a far cry from being a favourite. And this is your last lesson in lying for today: In real life, there are no rules. There is no quota of lies and truths, people cheat, mend, bend and meng truths, half lies and downright lies. In the real world people will surprise you by acting outside of the lines you expect them to. In the real world people may share what they believe to be truth and turn out to be complete fiction, they may doubt events they themselves witnessed. Sometimes they keep repeating a lie so long and so often it becomes their truth or even the absolute truth. The world is not only not black and white, it is not even just greyscale. To truth there are shades, hues, highlights and contrasts, and it takes a life and more to learn to navigate it.”

Later when Hermione was busy chopping her ingredients her mind kept returning to the things professor Snape told her. Somehow they played nearly twenty rounds, and she barely learned anything new about them man. He kept most of his truths to things like Mozart is not my favourite campanist, which gave very little away from what he did like. Some of what he gave her were public records, like his OWL scores, that anyone could access should they find it interesting enough, and some had little to do with him, like what professor McGonagall got him for Christmas. He did live his life under a tight armour.

Her mind wandered over the strange nature of lies and truths. Repeating, acting and believing the falsehoods until they would become a truth. She could not help but wonder how much of that was a personal experience for him. How much of a mask he was wearing did become part of who he was over the years. She had this inexplicable, very Gryffindor urge to peel the armour away before it would irrevocably fuse to the man, before the real Severus Snape was completely lost underneath. But she couldn’t. For everyone to survive to war, they needed that armour, they needed the acerbic potions master and master spy. She could not even imagine how heavy it must have been to carry that much armour constantly, without a break, without a chance to set it aside and breathe. The headmaster needed his ptretence, the order needed it, she needed it, like everyone else in wizarding Britain. She wondered if professor Dumbledore felt as bad about using the potions master as she suddenly did.

She wished she could do more to help him. He already allowed her to see him drink his sweet coffee, a tiny piece of armour he could lift in her presence. His usually scalding nature made it difficult for other to care enough about him. Maybe, just maybe, if he continued to trust her a bit, she could do more. Everyone deserved to be able to relax a bit once in a while. She wanted to help not only because he carried the fate of the war on his shoulders, but because he became a person to her. He deserved better.

She kept chopping and thinking in a relaxed silence. She barely noticed as piles of ingredients went through her fingers, cut and peeled. Her mind was turning around the mystery that was the potions master, and she only realised the passage of time when her fingers were searching around for another aspen pod to be crushed, but found nothing. She put her mortar down, stretched, and went to get some coffee for them.

The kitchen was deserted this time, except for a few miniature fake trees Harry or Sirius must have left lying on the kitchen table. They were probably meant for the model train setup. She sure was glad she had saved a few of each of the cookies she baked in a warded tin. The Order seemed to have an insatiable appetite for cookies. Or maybe that was just all the teenage boys closed up in the old house. She placed a cookie plate laden with all kinds of different goodies on the tray next to coffee cups, and levitated all downstairs.

When she opened the door to the lab, Professor Snape was leaning over one of the cauldrons, examining the content. When he heard her entering, he straightened up and turned towards her, glancing at the tray. She set it down gingerly on a potions bench between them, and grabbed her black beverage. He glanced over the plate of sweets, but made no comment.

“Professor, I was wondering if I could ask for your advice on something more personal than potions making” she said clutching her cup. He cast her a rather dirty look.

“I am not in the habit of handing out romantic advice to my students, Miss Granger” he drawled. She blinked in surprise.

“That is not what I meant” she exclaimed indignantly, when she saw the corners of his mouth pull into a smile. He was teasing her. Also, that was a good example of lying through telling the truth. She had to snicker at the idea of lovesick teenagers seeking the advice of the dour potions master.

“I just wanted to ask for some career advice, sir.” She watched from the corner of her eyes as he snatched up a brownie from the plate. “This is going to be my last year at Hogwarts, and I do not know what to do afterwards. Ron and Harry are dead set on becoming aurors, but it does not sound too attractive to me. Neville is going to try for a herbology apprenticeship, but I just cannot choose one direction. There are too many things I find fascinating.” He munched on his cookie, listening to her intently. “I like ancient runes, I am very good at arithmancy, I love transfigurations, I find charms to be really useful, I find potions fascinating. How can I choose just one?”

“Well, a carrier isn’t just about what you excel at, it is something you will be doing many hours, every day. You should choose something that you actually enjoy doing.”

“Well, I do enjoy most of my classes. I do not think History of Magic is my thing, I find muggle studies are not challenging enough and I do not think Divination should be a school subject at all, but apart from these I can see a pull in any other area. I must say I have found learning about potions making absolutely fascinating the last few weeks” she blushed. “But when I was left alone to do the ingredient preparation I also found it tedious and boring.”

He looked over her, tapping his finger against his lips, as if he saw something under the surface. “From what I have gathered in the last weeks, you will not be happy with just any field of study. What makes you enthusiastic is a discovery. With a mind like yours it would be a waste to pursue a carrier in anything less than scientific research.”

“I do enjoy the feeling when the pieces of a puzzle fall into their places” she answered thoughtfully, and watched him sneak a cinnamon bun from the cookie plate.

“My advice would be some interdisciplinary area that has constant public interest to generate enough funding for ongoing research and development. It would not necessary have to be a research institute, it could be a position of R&D at a for profit company. Something like healing, ward smithing, wand-making, artifact development, curse breaking.” Hermione would have never thought of becoming a wand-maker or an artificer, but the idea made her shiver with excitement. “If you take up interest in one of those fields, you should talk to Minerva. She has been teaching at Hogwarts for half a century, she has contacts at most institutes, and could probably arrange a visit. In my experience, people love to talk about themselves, and the work they are doing” he made an elegant gesture with fingers. “There is no easier way to gather intel than to ask someone how and what they are doing.” He snatched a coconut macaroon from the plate. Hermione had no idea which may have been his favourite, but she was sure the potions master had a sweet tooth. Maybe she should repeat the experiment and keep logs. “You could consider becoming and Unspeakable, but the constant and unrelenting need for secrecy can isolate one from their environment. Being unable to discuss any ongoing research could be a lonely existence, especially for a social Gryffindor.”

“Thank you, professor. You have given me quite a lot to consider” she replied earnestly. He nodded and turned his attention back to his brewing.

\---

It was the last week of the summer holiday, and it was raining cats and dogs outside. Hermione was sitting in Harry’s room with her two best friends, reading the book Harry got for his birthday from professor Snape. She thought it was a very funny, entertaining and strangely informative read, even though she did not consider herself to be a dummy. Maybe the description on how to boil water was a bit over the top, but it did mention aspects of brewing that were not found in any of her school books, probably because it was considered to be self-explanatory. Harry was sitting on his bed, his back against the headboard, conjuring a small blue light with his wand. Crookshanks was chasing it around the room with bloodthirsty attention.

“I can’t believe the summer is nearly over” Ron whined. “And I have spent most of it in a dusty library. And we have gone through like one third of the books. I kind of get wanting to have a big library, but what use is it to anyone if they can’t even read them?”

“Nothing says ‘I am rich pureblood snob’ like an unreadable library” Harry snickered.

“I don’t know. Maybe a snake-headed walking cane comes close” Hermione smiled.

“Or that hair of Malfoy senior” Ron added. “It totally says, I have no work to do, I can spend two hours every morning pampering my hair, look at how shiny it is.”

“You sound jealous” Harry grinned. Ron chucked a pillow at him.

“I would not be caught dead looking like a Malfoy, yuck. Besides, I do not need hours of work to look great. I just do” he grinned.

“At least we did something useful this summer” Hermione remarked. “Last year all we did was clean. This was still not quite like being treated as an adult, but a step closer.”

“I know what you mean” Harry said flicking his wand up, and making Crookshanks chase the light over the wall. “It may have been a small thing, but feels like we are starting to help with the war effort. That reminds me, did you manage to translate the book Ron found? Professor Dumbledore was asking about it.” The half-kneazle was furiously scratching at the old wallpaper.

“Most of it” Hermione answered chewing on her bottom lip. “Some parts are easier to read than others, and some pages are water-damaged. I translated the full chapter on how to destroy the horcruxes, that is what we need the most. I did a number of pages on the dangers of making a horcrux, hoping to find a weakness of You-know-who, and nearly the whole chapter about the receptive objects. Maybe we find a clue on how to find one or what sort of things to look out for. I can give you the pages to read if you are interested, or you can give them to the headmaster.” She fiddled with the zipper of her pullover, and never mentioned the copy she gave to professor Snape. She considered for a few seconds if she should share the idea of the potion they would be working on, and decided against it. Professor Snape said the knowledge was very dangerous, and Harry was a dreadful occlumens, not to mention the few occasions You-know-Who has managed to get in his head by accident. And last, but not least, if professor Dumbledore did not know that professor Snape knew, she did not want him to find it out from her. She felt quite bad for deceiving her friends, however good her intentions may have been. It gave her less right to throw stones at the headmaster for his secretiveness too.

“There is a chapter on how to split and extract your soul” she added. “The pages are just oozing evil. I do not want to read that” she added looking up at her friends. “I do want to help, but after handling those pages I feel like I need a shower, only no water can wash away that kind of contamination.”

“That is ok, Hermione. I am sure professor Dumbledore will understand” Harry reassured her with a smile, and led the cat bouncing over the room after the little light.

“Speaking of books” Ron piqued up. “Did you find the missing pages?”

“Yes, and no. Professor Dumbledore managed to create a location charm, and we know it is somewhere in Transylvania. It is too far to apparate to, and the Ministry is trying to keep an eye on all international portkeys. Professor Dumbledore is now busy with setting up an illegal, undetectable portkey so we can pop over there one of these days, make a copy and be back before anyone notices we are gone.”

“It would be cool to have such a portkey” Ron mused. “You get in a tight spot? Attacked by death eaters? Kidnapped? Activate it and poof, you are gone.”

“That is a really smart idea” Hermione said tapping a finger against her lips, thinking. “Maybe you could ask professor Dumbledore to teach you Harry. I think we all need some weapons up our sleeves that the deatheaters do not know about. Something outside the Hogwarts curriculum, they would expect that. Something other than Expelliarmus” she cast a sideways glance at Harry.

“Are you suggesting to renew DA?” Ron asked.

“Not quite. It was terribly useful, but we were all learning the same things. So if one of us tangled with deatheaters, and pulled a trick, next time they would expect it from any of us, and the surprise would be gone. I think we should all look up and learn defensive and offensive spells independently, ways to get out of a tight spot. Something different for all of us, to keep the element of surprise.”

“Are you suggesting we do extra schoolwork?” Ron pulled a face.

“No, Ron, Hermione is right” she was surprised to hear her friend come to aid. “This is not schoolwork, this is… preparation to what is out there. Those deatheaters have decades of practice on us, and a deep knowledge of the dark arts. It was sheer luck that we all got away from the Ministry last time. We need more than luck, we need an edge.”

“Maybe we should agree to a plan” Hermione suggested. “We all learn two defensive, two offensive spells each month and prepare at least one secret getaway plan. We give each other an update on how we are doing, but without the specifics. In a year that is like sixty offensive spells between the three of us, and thirty getaway plans.”

“That is an edge” Ron agreed. “All right, but no homework planners!” Hermione chuckled.

“By the way, Harry. When we were playing never have I ever, you ran out of the room as if you were being chased by a blast-ended-screwt. It seemed like you had a breakthrough idea.”

“Oh, well” he blushed, scratching the nape of his neck. “The twins mentioned a memory refreshing solution. I was just thinking, there could be a potion that would help me remember what happened on the night my parents were killed.”

“That is not how a memory refreshing potion works, but the re-leaving potion does exactly that” Hermione interjected. “Makes you re-live the event. A bit like watching it again without a pensive.”

“But that is bloody brilliant” Ron piqued up enthusiastically. “This whole war is centred on that stupid prophecy, and what happened on that night, Maybe you could uncover some clues, or learn what your mum did exactly, or…”

“Well, I did mention it to professor Dumbledore” Harry said dejectedly. “He does not think it is a good idea. He said we cannot change what happened and actually seeing losing my parents might make me… angry, and concentrate on the wrong things. We need to win the war to protect everyone, not just to avenge my parents.”

“I am not sure that is a valid point” Ron said carefully. “I mean, you have heard before what happened right? And you did not go off in a murderous rampage either. We might be missing clues.” Hermione agreed with him.

“I am sure it would be more of a motivation than a hindrance, even if it was emotional” she added.

“It does not matter” Harry sighed. “Such a potion has to be highly customised, and the Order does not have the extra capacity to waste on something non-essential.” She was sure her friend was parroting the words of professor Dumbledore.

“I beg to differ, this could be very important” Ron insisted. Hermione exchanged a look with her red-head friend. Was the headmaster trying to keep Harry in the dark about something on purpose?

“No, the headmaster is right, Ron. Maybe after the war, when everything settled down I can ask professor Snape to make that potion for me, when no one would be hurt by me getting emotional.” He focused his attention on Crookshanks again, and it was clear he considered the conversation to be over, but Hermione could not shake the feeling she was missing something essential.


	9. Planning the planning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Neither the world or the characters are mine, I merely borrowed the to have a bit of fun. When I am finished, I will return them slightly used.  
>  \-----  
>  Special thanks for the reviews for:
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> And everyone who left me kudos. Feedback makes a writer happy :)

Next day when Hermione walked down to the potions lab the wards were already down and the door open. She doublechecked the time, but she was not late, probably Professor Snape started the brewing early. She entered, and to her surprise practically every single horizontal surface was covered in piles of books. The cauldrons full of half-ready polyjuice potion were simmering softly on the working bench at the far back of the room.

“Good morning, professor” she peeked around a towering pile of ancient tomes. “Did you sleep well?”

“Miss Granger” he raised his head from a book looking surprised. “It was acceptable.” He motioned her to sit.

“Research day?”

“Yes and no. Experiment schedule planning day.” She pulled up a lab chair across from him and sat, waiting for an explanation.

“How much do you know about quantifying magic?” He asked. The seemingly off-topic question surprised her. She frowned slightly, trying to remember what she red on the topic.

“It is not something that any of our school books mentioned, but I did read a book from McLane and Zakrevsky on the topic.”

“Of course you did” he interjected without his usual acerbic tone. “What did you think about their work?” he asked, tapping his fingers together.

“I thought they did an excellent job of trying to approach the subject in a very scientific, meticulous way. The book I picked was an easy digest version, so it did not go into too many details, and presented a number facts without offering proof, as if it were, undisputed truth. I would not call it a full compendium on the topic, but it gave a good basis of understanding for perusing further information if necessary.”

He nodded at her assessment. “Some of their views are somewhat outdated, but none fundamentally wrong. Most likely your knowledge on this will be enough for the experiment we are conducting. Can you summarise what you remember?”

“What I remember is that quantifying magic is difficult, because there are a lot of factors still poorly understood that influence the outcome, and arithmentic calculations of acceptable precisions are extremely complex. Calculations are usually used as more of an estimation. A person’s magical capacity can be measured using Hecate crystals. The unit of magic commonly used in one Hecate, which is the amount needed to saturate one gram of crystal. The necessary amount of magic needed to preform most spells, curses and transformations can be estimated, but the accuracy varies, which is the reason it not commonly used. The theory is most often used in product development, estimating how much magic charge it takes to keep an enchanted product working at a satisfactory level. Unlike enchanted objects artifacts do not require recharging or re-casting as…”

“That will be enough.” He nodded seriously and slapped the book shut he had been examining, setting it aside. “Now, the reason I brough this up is, because we will be attempting to capture an extremely powerful curse in a potion. To succeed, we will need to create a brew that has the capacity of absorbing at least five hundred Hecate’s worth of magic per a hundred millilitre, which is no small amount.” He counted one on his forefinger. “Also, we will need to come up with a reproduceable way of measuring this capacity,” he said ticking out a second finger. “For this we need to grow a variety of Hecate crystals” he ticked off three. “And experiment with trapping smaller spells in the liquid before we can move onto fiendfyre.” He finished with four fingers open.

Hermione could barely contain her excitement. Hecate crystals were not easy to grow, and they were a very advanced form of magic that combined casting wards and brewing potions.

“Obviously we will have to start with growing crystals” professor Snape declared. “And a large amount of them too. The potion we are attempting to brew takes a long time to complete, thus there can be some overlap in the work. Also it might be useful to measure your magical capacity. Questions?” Hermione was bursting with them.

“Can one increase their own magic capacity through training and practice?” she asked curiously.

“That is exactly what the Hogwarts syllabus is attempting to do. Why else do you think first years start transfiguring matches and needles and work up to buttons, boxes and furniture later?” he asked with an irritable wave of his hand. She probably should have thought of that.

“So… there are no exercises specific to this goal?” He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh.

“When I asked if you had questions, Miss Granger, I meant regarding our experiment, not about how the universe works. I will give you a short, overly simplified rundown, but then I wish to move onto the experiment planning. Yes, there are such exercises, but the effectiveness varies greatly depending on unquantifiable inborn attributes, talent if you please. Training magic is like trying to train singing, drawing, dancing or intelligence. Some people have an inborn talent and makes progress quickly, others need to work hard for the same or lesser result, but eventually there is a plateau for everyone. The reason these exercises are not used much is, because one’s quality of magic usage is not only dependent on the raw quality of magic they can wield, but also on the amount of power wasted, the precision, reflexes, the ability to think on your feet and come up with better, faster more efficient solutions. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

“For now, yes. Thank you, sir.” To her surprise the corners of his mouth pulled up to a nearly-sile before pulling a parchment in front of him and grabbed a calendar.

“Now, the potion required to grow Hecate crystals is a strictly one hand work, which I will be doing. You will be allowed to set up the required wards. Talk to Black and clear out a room completely in the headquarters. Nothing but the floors will remain, and the room should be left undisturbed. The floor will have to be treated with a series of charms” he pushed a page of an open book in front of her. “I trust you can handle these?” She scanned the list quickly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Once done, you can start drawing the ward. I will pick up some drawing paste for you, and leave it in the lab. I do not suppose you have done ward-smithing before?” It was more of a statement than a question. He pushed another book in front of her. “Read this chapter before you begin. Drawing the lines should not be more difficult than simply copying the exact shape. Ask Minerva for pointers, she has some experience with artificer work.” He plopped a third book on top of the pile. Hermione wondered when he had the time to do all this extensive research. He tapped his wand on the diagram. The page unfolded, doubled, turned, and a drawing appeared on it. It looked mostly like a complex, circular-looking maze, that had some bigger and some smaller clearings in it. It made her think of the last trial of the Triwizard tournament. “The room should be big enough that you can draw the pattern on the floor and have room to walk around it. The cauldron with the potion comes here, in the centre the crystals will be forming, and here we place and object in the shape we want the crystals to copy” he kept tapping at the clearings in the maze. “Do try to finish the preparation work before the school starts. Any suggestions of the object shape?”

“Beads” Hermione said after a bit of thinking. “Small enough to be granular for the experiment, and threading them into chains can keep them together, easy to carry around, and in a pinch they could be disguised as gaudy jewellery.”

“I am not going to go around wearing a crystal necklace” he announced in a deadpan voice. Hermione had to supress a giggle, imagining him in the spangles of professor Trelawney, but she could not help grinning. “But the rest of the suggestions do have merit. It will be a few days before we can start growing the crystals, keep an open mind, we might come up with an even better shape. Let me know when you are done with the preparations. Questions?”

“No sir, it is all clear.”

“Hermione Granger out of questions. Let me mark the occasion in the calendar” the corner of his lips tugged into a nearly-smile. “Now, onto the potion. There are two different ones that have a potential to be what we need them for. We will be doing the brewing in my private lab at Hogwarts, for the simple reason that it is not worth the effort to try to move them around. As discussed before, all brews mentioned in the book you gave me need more than one set of hands to prepare, at least occasionally. We can hide this preparation in plain sight, and pretend it is part of your NEWT project. Usually I do my best to… discourage students from picking a practical rather than a theoretical work area.” She could only imagine that ‘discouragement’ took the shape of scowling, acerbic retorts and name-calling that would probably leave most students a shivering mess. “I will have to come up with a good excuse as to why I allowed you to go with a real potion, but there is nothing that can be about that.”

“Sir, I was wondering if I could create a re-live potion for the project.” His eyebrows shot up.

“That is certainly an idea that would provide for more than enough brewing time. But are you certain, Miss Granger? The potion needs a lot of customising, has limited usefulness and the difficulty of preparation is way beyond NEWT level.”

“It is not for me, professor. It is for Harry. We have been discussing the war effort against You-Know-Who and well, it all comes down to what happened the night when he attacked Harry and his family.” Some emotion flickered through the face of the potions master. It could have been alarm, pain, shame, embarrassment, hope or even something else she has never seen him display, but it was gone faster than she could identify it. “We feel that currently there are only two people alive who witnessed what happened, but he-who-must-not-be-named is unlikely to share, and Harry cannot remember. Hence the potion. We could prepare a double dose, one for me and one for Harry, and in my NEWT proposal I can come up with some reasoning of wanting to do a potion that needed customisation, and picking a day of my life I could not remember to have an unbiased experience. Maybe something about a Halloween story my parents keep telling me about but I have no memory of.” He kept tapping a finger against his lip, listening intently.

“Are we even certain that Potter still retains these memories?”

“Yes, sir. In our third year, when he was attacked by dementors he… he heard the final words of his mother.” Professor Snape rubbed his face, suddenly looking tired. Hermione wished she had done more research on what exactly brewing process entailed, if the potions master was this cautious about committing to it, it must be something gruesome. She decided not to mention that the headmaster was against the idea. If things went south, professor Snape could claim ignorance, and she would shoulder the blame.

“That is an ambitious project” he said finally. “And it may indeed provide us with new insight. As for now, we need to discuss the unofficial project. As I said, we have two candidates for your idea. This first potion has a brewing time of a month” he said piling a fourth book in front of her, open at the page that claimed to be _Prison of magic_. “But has no special timing needs regarding the start. The other potion” he drew yet another old tome from one of the piles, and opened it at _Essence of Void._ “Needs to be started on the day of the new moon, and has a brewing time of two weeks.” He pushed the pile of books somewhat aside, and flipped a lunar calendar over, turning it towards Hermione. “The next new moon is in a few days, on the first of September. The next one is the last day of September. Usually NEWT projects are handed out and approved around the end of October. If I reschedule my syllabus just a bit, we can start working on the third new moon from here” he tapped on a date in the middle of October.

“Sir, that leaves us with less than ten chances of getting the potion right before the end of the year” Hermione frowned. “This project is very important, maybe the most important thing I will be doing all year, we can’t afford to wait that long. We cannot hope to defeat You-know-who while his horcruxes are out there, we need a way to get rid of them.”

“Do you have any better suggestions?” he asked in a calm tone. She bit her lip.

“Give me a series of detentions” she said looking him in the eye. “It would be very much in character of you, sir, to pick on Harry for no apparent reason. And it would be very Gryffindor and in character of me to defend him. I am sure you could keep needling us long enough for me to, ehm, have an outburst or two.”

“I cannot give you two months of detention for talking back to me. I know I have a reputation, but that kind of unreasonable overreaction would have Minerva breathing down my neck, and I do not think I have to explain how dangerous it would be for anyone to know what we truly are doing.” Hermione covered her mouth with her hand, scared to even make the suggestion she was thinking.

“What if… what if I got so carried away I tried to hex you?”

“You would be lucky I would not be demanding you getting expelled.” He considered her a few seconds seriously. “You are aware that you could not tell anyone, not even Minerva, Potter of any of the Weasleys that you were not truly stupid enough to draw a wand on me? Can you truly face the backlash from that, Miss Granger? The disapproval of the other teachers?” His tone was neutral, nearly kind. He wasn’t taunting her for the suggestion, he was giving her a chance to back out. She has not done anything wrong yet, but she was already blushing in shame.

“I will have to” she whispered, mortified at the imagined reaction of professor McGonagall. And she could never explain it to her. This would give her a small and bitter taste of what professor Snape had to face on a daily basis. Well, she did want to learn to be more of a Slytherin. “When I said that this is the absolute most important thing I could do, I meant it. I can pretend, I can take a bit of shame” she added, her voice becoming stronger, steeling herself. When she looked him in the eye there was some undefinable understanding passing between them. “In time they will forget it again. There are enough of other students who get into trouble all the time. And, well. No offence sir, but you are kind of known to be cruel to Gryffindors.” She blushed. “They might be surprised that _I_ lost my cool head, but…”

“But no one will truly believe it was unprovoked, or that I would not have deserved it, had you actually managed to hex me” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I am sorry” she wasn’t even sure what she was apologising for. It was none of her doing how others perceived the potions master. He waved her apology away.

“This is a workable solution” he concluded. “I can start up the brewing process of _Essence of void_ on the first of September alone. I have not received my timetable yet, but I will have more than enough opportunity to give you a chance to throw a tantrum in my class, and be able to join me for the next preparation step, and we can start on the Prison of magic too. With a bit of coordination we can get to synchronise the brewing. Some of the ingredients are rather expensive. Fortunately I have an endless resource of dunderheads landing themselves in detentions. Looks like this year they will be spending a large amount of time wandering the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid looking for unicorn tail hair, griffin scales and mooncalf dung.” He grabbed a quill and started to add notes to the lunar calendar. Once he was satisfied with the details, he flicked his wand over it, and gave Hermione a copy.

“I do not suppose I need to explain that no one is allowed to see this” he said seriously. He dropped it on the pile of books he gave her without waiting for an answer. “That leaves me with the final item on our to do list for now. The potions we will be working on are volatile beyond anything you could imagine. The question is not _if_ there will be an accident, but _when_. You will need proper protective gear.” He flicked his wand and a bundle of slightly faded black cloth appeared on the tale between them. “On a short notice, and by short notice I mean the original, October starting time, this is the best we can do. Personalised protective gear is expensive and time consuming to make.” He motioned the clothes closer to her with his wand.

“Thank you, sir” Hermione said reaching out for the fabric. She stood, and her breath caught in her throat as she shook the bundle out. She was holding one of professor Snape’s teaching robes, albeit an apparently old one which started to fade from black to dark grey from the extended use and numerous washings. “This… this is one of your robes, sir” she said with awe. She had the strongest urge to throw her arms around the potions master and hug him. She did not even notice when she hugged the heavy woollen fabric to her chest with a huge smile. “This is… thank you so much.”

“I thought you already moved beyond the need of stating the obvious, Miss Granger” he drawled, visibly uncomfortable with her happy enthusiasm. If Hermione had not known better she would have sworn there was just a slightest flush of pink in his ears. “Did you honestly think Mr Longbottom was the only menace in my classroom? I have treated all my robes with a wide range of spells, wards and potions to dunderhead-proof them. Now, what are you waiting for, a marching band of leprechauns to come by? Put it on over your clothes so we can fit it to your size.” Hermione started to work the buttons free on the robe, her hands trembling with excitement.

Professor Snape flicked his wand at it impatiently. “ _Botonare_ ” he incanted and the buttons all popped free. Hermione made a mental note to lean the charm. She knew from her last year of defence against the dark arts lesson that the potions master was also extremely skilled in non-verbal spells, the incantation was probably for her own benefit. She shrugged into the robes, surprised by their weight. The sleeves were way too long, and the hem pooled around her feet on the floor. She had no chance of buttoning it over her chest, and to her dismay, over her hips.

While she was busy trying not to trip on the extra fabric, professor Snape walked around the table, his wand drawn. He waited until she was as ready as she could be, and started waving his wand over her in a sharp pattern. The sleeves receded, the hem of the robes shortened, the fabric around her breasts expended, until the buttons could fasten themselves in the button holes. She must have looked like a miniature version of the potions master, and the idea made her want to giggle, but she supressed the urge.

“How is that?” he asked, twirling his wand between his fingers. Hermione moved her arms up and down experimentally, pulled her elbows back as if she wanted to reach behind her. The robes strained, and two buttons popped open over her chest.

“Nearly good, I think” she blushed. He looked unfazed as he brough up his wand again and adjusted the clothes.

“Thank you, professor, they fit like a dream” she said turning around on her heel, watching the fabric billow. He handed a vial of lime green potion to her.

“Wash the robes with this to make the change in shape permanent.” Hermione took the vial and nodded enthusiastically, and turned around again, grinning with glee as the fabric flapped around her. “Miss Granger, do I need to impress on the importance that you are not talk around like this in Hogwarts?” She stopped in her tracks, turning towards him, suddenly serious.

“No, professor. I do understand the full implications. I will keep it under a ward, hidden in an undetectable extension charm. I can put it on in the lab before we start brewing, and I will return it to my bag before I leave.” He nodded seriously. Hermione bit her lip, considering whether she would dare to ask. “Sir, would it be ok to scare Harry and Ron by bursting into their room, robes flaring, door banging open? Just once, here is Grimmauld place.” She looked at him half expecting to be told she was being childish, and could not be trusted to keep a secret. The corner of his mouth curved up.

“As tempting as it sounds, even that would be unwise. However” he lifted his arms, palms facing up and shrugged, eyes twinkling uncharacteristically. “I can hardly stop you from using a glamour to appear to be wearing my robes, now can I?”

\---

When Hermione finally ascended from the dungeon, she could hear the voices of Sirius, Harry, Ginny and Ron from the kitchen. By the sound of things they have found a box of cookies she has hidden in the kitchen cabinet, and they were fighting over the last brownie. She drew her wand with a grin, and backed up a few paces from the door to give herself room to build up speed to a dramatic entry. She has never attempted a glamour before – upon closer inspection it was easy to see though it, but at first glance people would see what they expected to see. She waved her wand muttering an incantation. She let her unruly hair down from her strict bun and charmed it black. She moved it over her clothes and laid an illusion of black billowing robes over them. She tugged her wand away, and took a quick start towards the kitchen.

She threw the door open with a loud bang, and stormed in with a flare of black robes around her. Ron gave a scared little squeak, dropped the coconut cookie he was eating, and nearly fall off his chair, arms flailing. Sirius dropped the heavy metal tin onto the kitchen table, and stumbled back a few steps. Harry has mis-swallowed a mouthful of cinnamon bun and tried not to choke on it while staring at her with wide eyes. Ginny was the only one who’s first instinct was to go for her wand – her hand was hovering over her sleeve, but upon seeing it was only Hermione, she did not draw it.

“What is going on in here?” Hermione demanded in her opinion in a not too convincing impersonation of professor Snape. The effect on the others was priceless though. “Which of you dunderheads thought it was a smart idea to eat something from a heavily warded tin jar of unknown origin?” she demanded. She found it difficult to supress the urge to laugh.

“Bloody hell Hermione” Ron muttered righting himself, picking up his cookie, looking at it suspiciously. “Why would you do that? We weren’t doing anything.” Harry managed to cough up his bit of cinnamon bun, and looked embarrassed about his scare.

Hermione pulled up one perfect arch of eyebrow. “Is that so, Mr Weasley? Pray tell where did you get those delicious snacks than” she drawled. Ron swallowed a big gulp, and Harry was frozen in place with surprise. The effect was only ruined by the giggling of Ginny. Hermione could not help it anymore, she dissolved into laugher too. A giggling potions master had so little connection to reality that her glamour slowly dissolved into a smoky mist around her, leaving her standing in her muggle clothes with her curls in their natural colour.

“That wasn’t funny” Harry uttered, shaken. “That was a way too realistic impersonation.”

“Oh, cheer up” Ginny grinned patting his back. “I think it was hilarious. Though you might be spending a touch too much time in the dungeons, that was a cool eyebrow arch. Took me back to potions class” she ginned grabbing a cookie from the box unfazed.

“Blimey, Hermione, one Snape running around is more than enough.”

“Amen to that” Sirius said sitting down at the table.

“Is that so, Mr Weasley?” This time it was Ginny asking, but her giggling took the edge out of it.

“Har-har” Ron said still eying his snack suspiciously. “Say, Hermione, are these safe to eat?”

“Of course they are” she smiled back at him. “They are the same as the ones I served at the last Order meeting. The wards were merely supposed to keep your grabby little hands out, so I could spare a few of them for myself for a coffee break. Oh, well” she reached into the tin and got herself a ginger snap. “I could always make some more. How is the train model project going?”

“It is progressing great” Harry answered with a sincere smile. “We were discussing whether we should include the lake, and if yes, if it should be real water, or maybe just pour some resin mould. I know electricity is not a real issue with magical train set, but I cannot shake a feeling of unease putting that much water so close to the rest of the setup.”

“But resin water just doesn’t move” Sirius countered. “How are we going to add enchanted weather if the water can’t even make waves?”

“Why not compromise with a jelly lake?” Ginny asked. “You can enchant it to move and won’t be a danger of spilling it. And because it is you know, jelly, you can even add gradual coloration to it, to make the middle look deeper and the shoreline shallower.”

“I like that” Harry grinned, looking at his godfather.

“It is an elegant solution” Sirius twirled his beard around his finger. “I need to make a shopping list for making enchantable jelly, and some nice dies, but it would work. I guess in the meantime we could paint the roof of the castle?” the two of them exchanged a fist bump.

“Actually, Sirius, I wanted to ask you if there was a room in the house I could completely empty out for an artificer project. I would need something as big as the library, but if it is smaller I could use an extension charm on it.” Sirius scratched the back of his head.

“Well, I always hated the saloon” he admitted. “There it was that all those oh so noble pureblood meetings took place, trying to impress each other with their own elegance, richness and importance” he sneered. “You can have the saloon.”

“Thank you. What should I do with the furniture? Move it to the attic?”

“You can pulverise it for all I care” he answered.

“But won’t you need it again after I am done with the project?”

“Hermione, I am a wizard. If I need new furniture, I can transfigure it. Or ask Minerva to transfigure something really lush. Regardless, I doubt I would ever want to have a ‘saloon’ again, so feel free to demolish it all. I have never really given much thought of what I wanted to do with the place. Actually… Let’s turn this into a little contest!” He grinned, suddenly excited. “Everyone, try to come up with the most fun way to use the room. A mancave? A billiard room? An in-house greenhouse? The winner’s idea gets to be turned into reality.”

“A quidditch paradise” Ron whispered, his eyes getting glazed over.

“Well, thank you Sirius” Hermione grinned. “I think I have some furniture to demolish.” Ginny set up straight, looking newly energised.

“I am going with you” she announced. “I want a piece of that. I need to practice my ball-busting moves” she grinned. Hermione saw Ron blanche, and Harry seemed to be fidgeting uncomfortably.

“I am good” Ron announced, pulling the cookie box towards him. “I will be designing the altar to the Cannons.”


	10. Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Neither the world or the characters are mine, I merely borrowed the to have a bit of fun. When I am finished, I will return them slightly used.  
> \-----  
> Special thanks for the reviews for:  
> Tobi_Black  
> cancaleblue  
> buttons1721   
> pinkgrapefruit   
> AsongintheWind - wow that was review, haha!
> 
> And everyone who encouraged me with some kudos - feedback makes an author happy ;)

Professor McGonagall was surveying the room that once was the saloon of the Black family critically. All the furniture had been pulverised, and sadly, some fist sized pieces were missing from the walls here and there where the Ginny’s ball busting spells went awry. The debris had been removed, and the wooden floor had been cleaned and shined. Hermione has applied the series of spells Professor Snape provided her with.

“May I see the book you have been using as reference, Miss Granger?” she asked. Hermione motioned her wand to the spot next to the door where she had put it down, and it came sailing across the room to them. She handed the book over to her head of house open at the page the potions master had referred her to.

“Well, there are some better spells than these, but I guess it would make do” professor McGonagall hummed, checking the publication date of the book. “But if you have a serious interest in artificer work, I can lend you some better reading material.” Well, professor Snape could not be an expert on everything, after all.

“Professor, can we remove and redo the spells?” she asked. “This is a rather important project, I want to give it the best chance I can.”

“Certainly” she smiled at her indulgently and pointed her wand at the floor. “ _Finite incantatem_. Now, when we are trying to treat a large area like this with a spell, it is good practice to set up a leading spell-line. This is a guide for the magic to flow evenly and fill out the spaces between. In artificer work it is customary to set up a grid of light a few inches over the floor to facilitate drawing. _Lineae_ ” she flicked her wand and a soft purple grid of light appeared. “Now, the magic guide. She tapped her wand to the wall, and walked to the corner, tapping it again. Between the two point a fine silver line snapped into existence. She walked around the whole room, circling the wall, back to the starting point and closed the circle.

“If you want the spell to follow the guide, you need to touch your wand to the silver guide before casting” she explained. “Instead of the first spell on the list you should use _Impervious_ , it helps to isolate the magic from everything else. Dust, splinters, water. I will show you the first spell, and you can do the rest.” She tapped her wand to the guide, and called out the incantation. After finishing the wand-movement associated with the spell, she added a board, sweeping movement, as if following the line on the wall with her arm, turning around on the spot. “Your turn, Miss Granger” she nodded at her encouragingly.

Hermione followed her suit, and cast the second spell, which was supposed to create a layer of pure, invisible magic to serve as the base of the ward. When she finished the usual wand movement, the spell did not immediately pop into existence, it felt like a tension cord between her wand and the wall. When she moved her arm across the horizon she had the strange feeling of pulling a layer of soap bubble around, dragging the spell across the room and the floor. When she arrived back to the starting position, the enchantment snapped in to place.

It took the two of them a good half an hour to recast all the spells. While her head of house was working, she took the time to take notes on her suggestions and alternations, so she could repeat the process alone if necessary.

“That is much better” professor McGonagall adjusted her glasses, looking around the room with a satisfied smile. Hermione could feel that the quality of magic changed, it was buzzing nearly on her skin.

“Thank you professor. So… How do I start drawing?” she asked, holding up a jar of artificer drawing paste.

“Well, you could just walk in and start, and that would work, but there are better ways. First, we are going to cast another spell to aid us. This will create an invisible floor, so we can walk over the drawing without actually stepping onto the paste. Then we will cast the same light grid over the drawing so you can copy the design from grid cell to cell. And last but not least, you can use an enchanted brush to follow your instructions so that you do not need to crouch on the floor drawing.”

Hermione took notes on the necessary spells and tapped the book with the Hecate crystal-growing maze to open the full page of the design. It unfolded obediently, and after a simple little spell it kept hovering at their side. Her head of house lent her an artificer brush. She made a mental note to buy her own later, this was useful knowledge that could come handy.

“When you are drawing a design, it is best to first centre the pattern in the room, and make sure you have enough space. It has been a while since I have done this, but in my experience it is easiest to start in the middle and spiral outwards. Now, this is how you activate the brush” she pulled off something like a cap from the end of it. It looked thin and slightly rubbery. “You can place the cap on your finger, and while it is in contact with it, the brush will draw everything as you move your finger. You must be very careful not to forget this and start walking across the room still wearing it, or it will destroy the design you already created, drawing lines wherever you walk. Standing right over the grid cell you are working on look down and… draw the design with your finger in the air while the brush copies your movement on the floor, take the cap off… walk to the next part… and draw.” She kept moving, demonstrating the process. “Of course if you have a steady hand, you can paint bigger pieces in one go, even over several cells. I have never been that good in drawing though. If you made a mistake or the line is not as neat as it should be, you can use your wand to clear it with _Evanesco cellula!”_ she demonstrated it. “Make sure not to forget to add _cellula_ , or you will erase the whole design.” She handed the her the brush and the cap.

It took her a few tries to get the hand of drawing at the right scale, she hoped there would be enough paste in the jar professor Snape left for her. “Thank you, professor McGonagall. This was incredibly helpful” she said with earnest excitement.

“You are most welcome, Miss Granger” she smiled at her proudly. “It is always a pleasure to help sharpen an incredible mind like yours” Hermione felt her cheeks turning pink from her praise. “When you are done with the design, please do not try to activate it alone” she warned her. “That is the most advanced part of an artifact creation and should not be attempted without proper studying. I will be more than happy to lend you a wand and do it.”

“Yes, professor, and thank you.”

“I trust you will be able to finish the drawing without further assistance?”

“Yes, of course. Thank you for your help. Would you like to have some tea of coffee? I still have a small secret stash of shortbreads, though I am afraid the others found the rest of the cookies.”

“Thank you, my dear, tea would be appreciated. Without whiskey this time, I am afraid” she added with a deep sigh. “I still need to file paperwork with the Ministry, and god only knows, it would make it easier to put up with some of these imbeciles, but I need to refrain from hexing them.” Hermione chuckled, and the older witch smiled at her, patting her shoulder before exiting the room. “I will be in the living room, my dear.”

Hermione headed to the kitchen, and set to making coffee. While she wated on the old machine to start dripping the heavenly brew, she got tea out of the cupboard, retrieved her last of the secret cookie stash, and prepared two trays. She placed two cups on one, and one on the other. She filled the cup of Professor McGonagall with hot water, and added some tea leaves, remembering her divination classes. With a grin, she wished professor McGonagall had been there, it would have made the ordeal so much more entertaining. When the coffee was ready, she prepared a cup for the potions master, added a shortbread to his tray, and quickly descended the stairs to the lab.

The wards were down. She knocked, to make sure not to startle him while he was brewing, and opened the door only after she heard his grumbled ‘enter’.

“Good morning, sir” she said cheerfully. “How are you doing? I brought you some coffee.” She placed the tray on one of the empty benches. He stepped away from a pair of cauldrons that were both emitting a thick, heavy purple smoke.

“Ah, Miss Granger. Thank you” he walked to her and picked up his cup. She would have sworn a smile ghosted over his face when he took a sip. “I thought you were busy drawing the wards?”

“We are taking a break with professor McGonagall” she explained. “I remembered you mentioning you could not leave the Hecate potions without supervision at this stage, but I thought you might like something to drink.”

“Indeed” he said taking another sip from the sweet brew. A strange, uncomfortable silence settled between them and Hermione was uncertain what else to say. She would have loved to invite him to join them, but he could not leave, and others should not come to the lab. It was not safe for brewing, and the less they knew the better it was for everyone. They kept looking at each other, until she broke the silence.

“I should be getting back” she said wringing her hands. “Professor McGonagall is waiting for me. But I can come back later, if you would like some company?” She did not like how hopeful she sounded. One corner of his lips quirked up.

“That would be acceptable. Thank you for the coffee.” He turned back towards his work, and Hermione fled up the stairs, both nervous, relived and confused.

She finished preparing the second tray by pouring herself a cup of good black coffee, and went to join her head of house in the living room.

\---

After their break, professor McGonagall left, but promised her to look over her ward when she was ready with it. When Hermione returned to the kitchen, Ron was sitting rummaging through the cupboard, looking for a snack.

“Hey, ‘Mione” he smiled at her. “You do not happen to have any more secret cookies, do you?” he asked hopefully.

“Sorry, Ron, we just finished the last of the shortbread with professor McGonagall. But if you are hungry maybe I could fry you an egg?” she offered.

“You are the best” he grinned, plopping down at the table. Hermione pointed her wand at the fridge, and a few eggs, a piece of bacon and butter came sailing out.

“So, how comes you are not going through the Malfoy library?” she asked.

“Well, Remus had other stuff to do, and the wards have never been keyed to me, so I cannot go in alone. To be honest it is kind of insulting that they do not trust me to do the work alone, but I am not going to complain. I think I saw enough books to last a lifetime.” Seeing the expression on Hermione’s face, he quickly added “well, unreadable books that is. Schoolbooks are fun.” She snorted and lit the fire under the pan with a poke of her wand.

“Sure, and I’m leprechaun, I know how much you enjoy studying. Is Harry out with the headmaster?”

“Yeah, they finally located the missing pages, they went to retrieve them. They will take several pre-timed portkeys, they won’t be back for a while” he sounded gloomy about being excluded.

“Well, that is fortunate” she said placing the bacon strips into the pan. “I wanted to talk to you and maybe Ginny without Harry around about something important. Could you please ask her to join us?”

“If you can mix a bit of cheese in that omelette for me, I can do anything you want” he grinned, and went to look for her sister.

Hermione was about to pile the ready-made eggs onto a plate when Ron returned with Ginny, the latter one looking suspicious and slightly worried. She placed the food in front of Ron, and poked her wand at the dirty dishes that started washing themselves.

“You are the best” Ron grinned, and started to eat.

Ginny sat across from her brother. “So, what did you want to talk about? It sounded serious.”

“It is” she quickly looked around and cast a _Muffliato_ to make sure no one would be listening in. She took a deep breath, and decided to just say what concerned her. “I think professor Dumbledore is keeping a secret from Harry, possibly more than one. I also think this is something really big, and I am concerned for him.” She expected her friends to defend the headmaster, but to her surprise, Ron agreed with her.

“I noticed it too” he said, laying down his utensils. “I thought I was the only one. I thought I might be overthinking this. But I agree. And ever since last year, when he took him to get that fake horcrux from the cave, Harry has been trusting professor Dumbledore so blindly. I mean, he always did look up to him, but since then it is… unquestioning, blind following. And sometimes I feel that the headmaster is playing on that.”

Ginny frowned. “But I can’t imagine he would want to hurt him” she said.

“Probably not on purpose, not if he can avoid it” Hermione agreed. “But I think the topmost priority of the headmaster is winning the war, whatever the cost. I would like to think he would do his best to reduce that cost, but…”

“Yeah” Ron interrupted. “To me, this feels more like a chess game between You-know-who and professor Dumbledore. He has a plan, he wants us to react and act in a certain way, and if he thought the information he has would change the way we acted he would keep it from us. But we are people, not machines. Sometimes we do stuff differently than what he predicted. Just look at that fiasco in the Ministry of Magic” he shook his head.

“That was my conclusion too” Hermione agreed. “While I do want us to win the war, if this information would make Harry make different decisions, I also feel he has the right to know.”

“To be honest, we did not talk much about his mission” Ginny said. “Actually, we do very little talking.” Hermione was impressed that her friend could say that without blushing furiously. “So I did not notice anything suspicious. But basically, you two are telling me to watch out for anything concerning the headmaster, and not to trust him?”

“I know it does sound terrible if you put it that way” Hermione said fiddling with her wand.

“No, it actually sounds like a concerned friend, who is looking out for what is best for Harry, instead of how to get the most out of him” she said stealing a piece of bacon from Ron’s plate.

“Hey!” he pulled his food further away from his sister.

“Do you guys already have a plan?” she asked munching on the bacon.

“Not really. I just wanted to ask you two to keep an eye on things, question what Harry tells about the headmaster’s plans and try to, I do not know, make Harry think for himself instead of just blindly following instructions. And if you think something is suspicious, let the others know without alerting Harry.”

“Sounds like a plan to me” Ron said, taking a bite of his omelette. “I did find it terribly suspicious that he did not wish Harry to remember the night his parents were murdered” he added darkly. At Ginny’s questioning gaze Ron shortly explained about the idea of the re-live potion. “I mean, sure, the memory could be useless, but how would he know that? Unless, of course, he had already seen that memory. He is a world class legilimens, and Harry is crap at occluding.”

“He could have red his mind on the night it happened” Hermione interjected. “Hagrid told us he and the headmaster were both there when they left baby Harry for the Dursleys.”

“Still, even if it is a useless memory, why would he stop Harry from re-visiting it? It is his right to know” Ginny wondered. “Unless…”

“Yeah. Unless he is trying to hide something.” Ron agreed.

“I am still going to prepare the potion for him” Hermione told them. “Harry does not know, nor does the headmaster, and for now, let us keep it that way. But this is a complex brew, it takes months of work before it is ready. I will be lucky if it is done by Christmas.”

“We will just have to wait and see” Ron nodded, stuffing more omelette in his mouth.

Hermione cancelled the _Muffliato_ spell.

“Now, I have some wards to make” she announced. “Ron, be a lamb, and clean up the kitchen after you finished eating, will you?” she tucked her wand into her sleeve and headed back to what used to be the saloon. There was work to be done.

\---

Before Hermione knew the last week of the summer vacation came to an end. She had managed to finish drawing the ward for growing the Hecate crystals, but the potion was still far from ready. To her dismay, she would not be able to witness the activation of the ward, but professor McGonagall did offer to tutor her. Maybe if she had the energy she would take her up on her offer.

She also did not get another chance to talk to professor Snape. She would probably miss him – sitting through his usual class was going to be very different than the work they did in Grimmauld place, and even with her upcoming detention time it will be a fraction of the time that they used to spend together. She had to supress a grin at the idea of what Harry and Ron would think if they knew.

She had mixed feelings about returning to the castle. Hogwarts had been her home for years, but this last occasion felt bittersweet. She would never be returning again after this year, even if she survived the ongoing war. She would miss the old corridors, the endless library, the familiarity of the common room, the enchanted ceiling, the scent of books, her classes. This year all of that would come to an end. When she stepped off the Hogwarts express for the last time, she was in no hurry to get one of the carriages to the castle. She kept gazing fondly at the building, with her two best friends at her side, when a muffled conversation got her attention.

“Don’t be like that” a male voice said somewhere nearby. “It is not like we have not done even more before.”

“Yes, but… there are people around, it really makes me uncomfortable. Please. They could see us, what will they think of me?” a female voice replied.

“Oh, come on, just a quick little feel…” Hermione frowned, and started to walk towards the source of the noise, momentarily ignoring Ron’s questions about where she was heading. She rounded the corner of the train station building, and sure enough, there were two students standing in the shadow of the building, nearly completely hidden by the darkness.

“I am sorry, I am just so embarrassed, anyone could walk by…” came the reply. She recognised one of the two, it was Logan Davis, a sixth year Gryffindor boy. The other shape belonged to a Hufflepuff girl she did not know. Her back was against the wall of the building, and he was towering over her, his arms on the two sides of her shoulders, touching the wall. He her had trapped between his arms.

“It is dark, no one will see us” he continued, leaning in closer. “And you are so amazing.” Suddenly Hermione was very angry.

“What are you doing here?” she rounded on the boy. “Step away from the wall this instant” she commanded, drawing her wand. The two students looked at her startled, but Davis stepped away from the girl to take a better look at who found them. He was nearly a head taller than Hermione and looked her up and down lazily before responding.

“It is none of your business” he said off-handily. She heard footsteps behind her, and thought that Harry and Ron must have arrived too, but she did not turn around and take her eyes off Davis.

“Being the head girl makes this very much my business” she levelled her wand at him. “Step away from her.”

“What are you going to do, take away house points? The year has not even started yet” he chuckled, folding his arms over his chest. He stepped into Hermione’s personal space, trying to intimidate her. She ignored the urge step back, and was about to curse him with something nasty, when a clear, cold voice interrupted them.

“May I ask what is going on here?” she glanced in the direction of the sound. There was a witch standing a few steps from them. She was slightly shorter than Hermione, and if she wanted to describe her ‘petite’ was the first word that came to her mind. She reminded her of a china doll, with an ageless perfection to her features. If she had decided to plate her black hair on the two sides of her face, Hermione would have believed she was a fourth year student. Had she worn a bit of makeup, she would have guessed her to be mid-twenties. If the witch had chosen robes like professor McGonagall favoured, she would have believed her to be closer to her late forties.

“We were just doing some kissing when we were rudely interrupted” Davis provided with a smirk. “We weren’t doing anything wrong.”

“That is not…” Hermione started saying, but the witch silenced her with a raised hand, her full attention on Davis.

“Tsk” she said with a twitch on her face. “You may not know me yet, but when you are talking to me, you will address me as professor Zhuang. And, for the record, I really do not like being lied to. So, let us try this again. What is going on here?” Something about the new professor made Hermione very uneasy, she felt goosebumps erupting along her arm. The professor looked like the calm before the storm, and Davis did not seem to feel the danger practically radiating from her.

“We were just having fun, professor Zhuang” Davis started to explain. The new teacher did not draw her wand, did not use an incantation, did not even move, but there was suddenly a powerful blast of raw magic coming from her. It hit Davis right in his groin leaving a burned-hair smell in the air. Hermione stood a few steps away and she felt the backlash brush against her like an army of angry bees, and took a step back before she could stop herself. Davis fall to his knees with a high-pitched squeal, his eyes filling with tears. Professor Zhuang stepped up to him, looking utterly emotionless. She cupped his chin in her hand and tipped his head back, forcing him to look up at her.

“As I said, I do not like being lied to” she said calmly, her fingers digging into his skin. He was trying to keep a whimper from escaping his lips. The Hufflepuff girl stood rooted to her spot, trembling with fear, her hands clapped to her mouth. “What is your name, and which house do you belong to?” the professor demanded.

“Logan Davis” he squealed, forming complete sentences apparently beyond his current state. “Gryffindor, professor Zhuang.”

“As you have pointed it out, the school year has not started yet, so there would not be a point in docking every single point from your house. However, it seems to me, that you are in very dire need of learning what consent and ‘no’ mean, before someone would take it in their own hands to teach you in a more… permanent way” she said, forcing him to tilt his head to the right and then the left, examining him, considering. “You will let every single male from Gryffindor know, from fifth year and above, that they are to attend a few extracurricular classes on the topic with me. Next Saturday, the defence against the dark arts classroom, eight o’clock in the morning. You will let them know this is your doing. And Mr Davis” her voice became a soft whisper, cold like fresh snow a winter night. “there will be a quiz after the lessons, and it would be very unhealthy to fail. I hope you understand?” she patted his cheeks with a somewhat harsh double slap, and let him go. Davis curled up on himself, letting a half-sob escape. Professor Zhuang turned and walked away with dainty little steps, taking the buzzing aura of electricity with her.

“That was absolutely terrifying” Harry whispered when the professor was out of earshot.

“Channelling that much raw magic was one of the scariest things I have seen” Hermione admitted.

“Was I the only one who thought she was hot?” Ron piqued up.

“You are my friend, Ron, but you are mental” Harry voiced Hermione’s opinion. Ignoring the boy on the ground still trying to regain his composure, she walked to the girl.

“Hey” she said gently. “It will be ok. You aren’t in trouble. What is your name?”

“Vicky. I… am Victoria” she stammered.

“Come, Vicky. Let us take one of the carriages back to the castle, before they are all gone” she placed a hand on her shoulder. “Harry and Ron are also from Gryffindor, they will take care of Logan” she added trying to sooth her. She led her gently away, hoping her friends would make sure the idiot on the ground would make it back to the castle in one piece too. As they walked to the carriages, she kept talking to Vicky, as if she expected her to bolt any second. She did her best to try to calm her, but also explain why, unlike her, Logan was in trouble. She knew she could not make decisions for the other girl, but hoped she would dump his manipulative, aggressive, selfish, demanding ass. No one deserved to be treated the way he was trying to treat her. From the distance she could hear Ron whining about having waste his weekend on a lesson on consent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, not much Severus in this one, but I promise we will be seeing a lot of him in the coming chapters!


	11. Just not enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Neither the world or the characters are mine, I merely borrowed the to have a bit of fun. When I am finished, I will return them slightly used.  
> \---
> 
> Special thanks for the reviews for:
> 
> hlharriss  
>  buttons1721  
>  cancaleblue  
>  Grimmy_hild 
> 
> And everyone who left me kudos. Feedback makes a writer happy :)

The first day of the new schoolyear went by in a blink of an eye. Hermione had double charms, History of Magic and double arithmancy. Her evening was filled with a meeting with professor McGonagall and the prefects, detailing her new duties as head girl, assigning a patrolling schedule. Before she knew it was Tuesday morning, and she was heading down to the Great Hall to have breakfast before double potions. Her stomach was one knot of nerves. She was not looking forward to the confrontation with professor Snape.

“I had this weird dream” Ron said piling bacon and even more bacon on his plate. “Malfoy has turned me into a rainbow coloured pigmy puff, and was about to feed me to Mrs Norris, when a bunch of girls showed up. They got into a fight about who could have me. Apparently, pigmy puffs do not come in rainbow colours. The winner girl stuffed me down in her bra, between the most beautiful dark breasts I have ever imagined. What do you think this means?”

“That maybe you should eat a lot less before turning in.” Harry remarked. “Are you really going to eat all of that?” Ron was now adding a heap of scrambled eggs to his plate.

“Sure, I will need the energy for the quidditch try-outs” he said cheerfully.

“Mate, that will be nearly three weeks from here. We have that extra fun extra lesson with professor Zhuang, remember?”

“How could I forget, she is really hot” Ron stuffed food into his mouth. Hermione though he missed some essential survival instincts. They glanced up at the head table. The new defence against the dark arts teacher was sitting between professors McGonagall and Flitwick. She seemed to be chatting away with the Gryffindor head of house, while ignoring Flitwick’s attempts to get her attention. Hermione wandered if she did that on purpose. Her eyes were drawn further down the table, where professor Snape was consuming his breakfast calmly. He seemed cool and aloof as always. Probably the upcoming little performance was nothing challenging for him.

“You not hungry, Hermione?” Ron asked between two bites.

“Jus a bit nervous” she admitted. Her stomach gave her a painful twist.

“About potions?” he asked surprised. “You are the best in our year, now that Harry does not have the book from the half-blood Prince anyway. And you seemed to have been doing great this whole summer.”

“Yeah, but this will be different. He” she referred top professor Snape “has a cover to maintain, and it is usually not pleasant.”

“Oh, well, we have gone through worse together” her friend shrugged. “We just have to keep our cool. Though I admit he is really good at pushing our buttons.”

Harry was about to add something to the conversation when Ginny joined them at the table. Hermione grabbed a muffin, wrapped it in a paper napkin and sunk it in her schoolbag. Maybe after she had landed herself in detention and did not feel the sword of Damocles hanging over her head she would have more appetite.

The conversation at the table quickly turned to the quidditch try-outs, and she only half-listened to her friends as they walked down to the dungeons. With each step the temperature became cooler, although she suspected it was only her nerves.

She could not help wondering how professor Snape must have felt each time he was summoned by You-know-who. Did he have this heavy feeling in his stomach? This feeling of impending doom? Did he fear the danger he was about to face? She knew it was ridiculous to compare the two experiences, but he must have faced something similar, only much worse, regularly. Knowingly walking into real danger, not sure what would come out of it. He must have had nerves of steel, and she was suddenly even more grateful for the dangerous job he was doing and the magnitude of what was asked from him hit her like a ton of bricks. If she felt this bad about knowingly getting herself a detention, she could not, did not want to imagine what it would feel like to walk up to a madman, knowing you may never come back or that you may have to leave a piece of yourself behind, your soul broken your sanity chipped away. She shuddered.

At nine o’clock the door of the potions classroom opened, and they filed in along with their classmates. The three of them settled next to each other at one of their usual tables. Hermione felt her feet getting sweaty with nerves. Professor Snape was standing next to his desk, eyeing with disdain as the students slowly filled his classroom. When the last of them took their place, he flicked his wand and the dungeon door banged closed.

“I am surprised to see that this many of you imbeciles have made it to the final year of potions” he said as a greeting. “This year will be different from the previous ones. Each of you will be expected to engage in an individual research project. These” he flicked his wand at the blackboard, where a large amount of text appeared “are the rules and expectations of said project. As you can see, you have an option to do actual brewing, or literature research. I strongly discourage every single one of you from choosing a brewing project. One single mistake could ruin the process, and leave you with an exploded cauldron and a Troll for result. And make no mistake, I will take great pleasure in failing you” he added with a predatory smile. “You have until the last day of September to hand in a research proposal. I will personally discuss it with you in one-on-one sessions before approval, and you can start working on them in the middle of October. Some of the usual lessons will be dedicated to your project, and you will receive somewhat less homework to leave you enough time to complete your assignments. I will strongly suggest that you use this extra time wisely, the results of your project will be part of your NEWT score. Why are you not taking notes?”

There was a sudden flurry to get parchments and ink out. Hermione tapped her empty sheet, and used the copying charm she perfected while making her own version of _The art of bending the truth_. Her parchment was instantly filled with the spiky handwriting of professor Snape.

There were a couple of minutes spent with furious scribbling, and when the last of the scratching of a quill died down the potions master tapped the blackboard again. This time the instructions of a potion appeared.

“This lesson you will be preparing a fire-breathing potion” he drawled. “You will be working individually. I do not expect many of you to complete the process correctly. Those few of you who actually get to stage nine, when the potion turns a soft blue colour will place a stasis charm on their work and continue next lesson. The majority of you who will fail will get a different task more to your speed. You may begin.”

Hermione red the recipe on the blackboard and frowned slightly. The instructions were somewhat incomplete, apparently the professor expected them to remember that the ashwood potion base was extremely sensitive to contamination and needed special equipment cleaning before starting, or that some of the ingredients were volatile together and needed a special mixing technique. She saw that her friends have already gone to get their ingredients from the storage. She would wait a bit and make sure the two of them saw her making a big fuss of cleaning her cutting board, knives and cauldron. She secretly wished she was wearing the robes professor Snape gave her, she was expecting potions exploding this lesson.

Harry and Ron returned with armfuls of ingredients, and piled them onto the bench. Ron did notice her casting spell after spell on her equipment, but she had to grab Harry’s wrist before he started chopping his daisy root, and whisper ‘anti-contamination spellwork first’.

Her hands were trembling slightly when she started chopping her own ingredients. She had to remind Ron not to use his copper cauldron for the base, and had to catch Harry from stirring too much. She decided to put a ward around her working place to make sure if someone else managed to blow up their potion it would not ruin her own work.

Professor Snape was making his rounds between the tables, walking as silent as a shadow while they worked. He had already vanished the work of three students, but lucky for them there was still time to re-start if they were fast enough. She added the beetle eyes and chilly flower petals to her potion at once; the eyes were supposed to stabilise the flowers after all. She was busy counting her stirs when she noticed Harry was about to make a mistake, but she could not interrupt him without losing count.

“So, it will be Mr Potter, our resident potions genius to explode the first cauldron” Professor Snape whispered right behind the two of them. She never heard him walk up to them even though she was expecting something to happen. She let out a tiny squeal, nearly dropping her stirring rod. Harry was so startled he let go of the jar of beeswax he was holding, and it was hurtling right for his potion. Realising what was about to happen, her heart skipped a beat. Professor Snape had the reflexes of a viper, his hand shot out and grabbed the jar before it could have hit the surface of the liquid. Now he stood between them, so close that she could feel his robes brushing against her leg. If she moved just a traction to her left, their shoulders and arms would be touching. Goosebumps erupted on the back of her neck, and she broke out in cold sweat from what could have happened if he had not caught the bottle. Harry jumped, and took a step back.

Hermione finished stirring her own potion, and set down the rod with a quivering hand. She did not want to ruin her potion while the dreaded interaction with her professor was coming up.

Professor Snape stepped back, placing the jar on the working bench with a soft chink.

“Tell me, Mr Potter, what made you decide to try to kill us all?” he asked silkily. Harry turned a dark shade of red. Now the whole room was watching the unfolding scene.

“I, uhm…” Harry stuttered. Clearly he had no idea what he was doing wrong.

“Articulate, as always” he sneered. “Lazy, self-important, and incompetent. Is it beneath the famous Mr Potter to read his schoolbooks?” he turned to the class with the next question. “Who can tell me what would have happened had Mr Potter dropped the whole jar of _solid_ wax into his potion?” Hermione considered for a short second if she should raise her hand. This was knowledge she did not need the extra tutoring from professor Snape to decipher. She did not forget his waring to appear less knowledgeable than she was, but she also had to appear to be her usual self, and this would give her a chance to get involved in the conflict. Her arm shot into the air, as usual.

“Miss Granger” he sneered. “Please enlighten us.”

“The wax should be molten before being added to the potion” she recited. “It should be poured in in a spiral pattern, as the interaction happens on the surface of the wax, which generates heat. If the wax piece is added in a solid state, the heat is concentrated on a small area, which will cause a thermal imbalance in the potion. If this happens close to the side of the cauldron, it would cause the metal to melt and allow the potion to flow out, possibly causing injury. If it happens in the middle of the potion, the heat causes the water to suddenly evaporate and some of the ingredients to burn, and releases a toxic mixture of vapour and incineration product into the air. Dropping a whole jar in the mixture would generate enough heat to melt the cauldron and explode the potion, mixed with the molten metal. But sir, Harry would have never dropped the whole jar had you not snuck up behind him and scared him.”

“Are you implying you know better than me how to conduct a potions lesson, Miss Granger?” he asked in a dangerous tone, towering over her. She was so nervous she could have puked on his shoes.

“No sir. Just mentioning that walking up behind someone unnoticed is against the safety regulation of potions brewing. The suggested…”

“Silence” his expression turned thunderous. “Ten points from Gryffindor. I will not tolerate cheek in my classroom, not even from the _chosen one_ or one of his sidekicks. That will be detention with Mr Filch, Potter.”

Hermione knew that this would be the time to shut up, but she had to push on. “But sir, Harry did not even…”

“Stop interrupting me” he thundered. Looking at the expression on his face she took an instinctive step back. She heard Ron fall over in his haste to get further from the potions master. “How dare you to try to correct me you insolent nitwit! Typical Gryffindor behaviour, blaming someone else for their shortcomings, blundering ahead without proper preparation and closed eyes, ignoring instruction and thinking to be above the rules for mere mortals. How deluded are you to think I did not see what you were doing? Have I not told you, repeatedly, Miss Granger, not to help your classmates?” he took a step closer, and she slowly backed away, shuffling. “Or did it escape your attention when I said this was an individual task? Did I not tell you enough times not to fix their mistakes?” another step. “Are you incapable of understanding the consequences of your actions? How many times do I have to repeat it to get it through that disaster of busy head of yours?” Another step. Hermione’s back has hit the dungeon wall, and she had nowhere to go. “I do not care of the rest of the teachers loud you for your intelligence” he kept advancing on her, his voice dripping with venom and fury. “You are just a short-sighted, close-minded, insufferable know-it all, who cannot grasp the importance of the other students learning their own lessons and doing their own work! What do you think the wonder boy and Weasley are going to do when they become aurors and are confronted with a potion? Send you an owl with a question and hope they will survive long enough to read your answer?” His face was merely inches from hers now, she was visibly trembling, unable to say anything. “Regurgitating book texts will only get you and those around you killed. How dare you criticise your superiors, how dare you assume you know everything with the _extensive_ life experiences of a stupid little schoolgirl?” Her eyes have filled with tears. She knew she had asked for this, but she had not realised how much it would hurt hearing it. “You need to learn to close your mouth, open your mind and follow instructions. I do not care what my colleagues think of your abilities, you are nothing but an obnoxious, self-important irritating, conceited little girl with delusions of intelligence who has grown an unjustifiable ego based on undeserved praise, who has been given way too many privileges.” She felt the tears swell and roll down her cheeks. “I do not want to hear even a peep from you for the rest of the term” he added threateningly, suddenly stepping away from her. Hermione felt so week in the knees she wanted to slide down the wall and cry.

“From now on you will be sitting at the last table, alone” he pointed at the table he meant. “ And if I ever catch you again helping another student you will be sitting in detention scrubbing cauldrons till you are eighty. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, professor” she could barely whisper, horrified.

“And as for you, Potter” he rounded at her friend, walking away from her. Harry was watching him with barely concealed rage, his hands curled into fists. “you will be receiving an incomplete for today” he flicked his wand towards his potion and it disappeared. Hermione barely had energy left to move, but she knew she still had to act, and soon. She took a few steps forward. “You need to start doing your own work instead of sailing by on your fame and help from your useless little _friends_ ” he sneered the last word. To Hermione’s horror, Harry has lost it, and made a move to punch their teacher. Professor Snape whipped his wand out faster than she could follow with her eyes, and threw Harry back with a nonverbal spell. “You need to learn to control your temper and learn your place, Potter” he said with icy calm. Hermione knew she had to do something before it was Harry who ended up with moths of detention. Professor Snape kept his wand trained on her friend. “Maybe a curse would help you remember” his lips turned up into a vindictive, evil smile. “Shall we begin with…”

“Stop!” she shouted, drawing her own wand. The potions master whipped around, and disarmed her with the same movement, throwing her against the dungeon wall. Her back and head hit the stones with a loud smack, and her wand cluttered to the floor somewhere. You could have heard a pin drop in the room.

“You dare to draw a wand on me, Granger?” he was stalking over to her again, his voice dangerously calm. Her heart was hammering like a frightened bird, yet drawing a breath seemed to be difficult. “Do you think you are above the rules, attacking a professor? Students have been expelled over less” he gave her a predatory smile. “Let me make myself very clear, Miss Granger. I would love nothing more than to see your wand snapped and you permanently removed from this institute” he stalked closer slowly, tapping his wand against his own palm. She could just imagine too well as some ministry official snapped her own wand in half. “But given that this is supposedly your first transgression, the headmaster would probably disagree with me. However, you have just lost every single point that Gryffindor has” a shocked gasp ran through the classroom. She may have just made it to be included in the next edition of _Hogwarts, a History_ , as the first ever student who lost all house points. “And you will be spending three evenings of the week in detention with me for the rest of the year, and if you put as much as a toe out of line, I will make sure you will never graduate” the last of his were were barely louder than a whisper, yet everyone in the room could clearly hear them. The threat was way too real, and she was paralysed with fear. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, professor Snape” she said in a raspy voice. It took all her willpower to utter an answer. “Now get back to your work, all of you!” he bellowed, and stormed away.

Hermione wanted nothing more than to curl up and cry, but she couldn’t, not yet. She went to collect her wand on shaking legs, and shuffled back to her table in a haze. Ron and Harry were sending worried glances in her direction, but after what transpired no one dared to talk or approach her, lest the potions master think they are trying to help one another. She rubbed at her face with the sleeve of her robes, trying to wipe the tears away.

Hermione walked back to her potion, and did her best to shove her feelings aside, and concentrate on her work. She knew that Professor Snape had done nothing more than what she asked him to, it was entirely her own fault if she was unprepared for the outlash. She continued to work numbly, but it felt all unreal, as if she saw the world through a thick layer of plastic, distorted, detached, unable to truly connect and touch.

For the rest of her class she concentrated on her potion and kept her head down. She red and re-red all the instructions, trying to think of everything they were already supposed to know about, such as the need for the special cleaning spells.

“You should have reached phase nine of the potion by now” the drawling voice of professor Snape announced. “Those of you who managed to create a soft blue potion, place a stasis charm on your work. The rest, vanish your pitiful attempt. I will be expecting an essay of two scrolls on where you went wrong in the brewing and why. All of you should start cleaning up your work stations.”

Hermione cast the spell on her cauldron, and saw that only two other students managed to get this far. She knew she should probably feel proud of her success, especially given the circumstances, but all she felt ashamed and exhausted. She cleaned her supplies away without a word.

“Potter, Mr Filch will be waiting for you in the trophy room at eight. Miss Granger, you will be reporting to my office at eight, and spend the evening disembowelling horned frogs. Class dismissed.”

Hermione hung her head, and hurried out of the room without a word. She heard the running steps of her friends trying to catch up to hear.

“Hermione” Ron said to her right. “Are you ok?” her friend was looking at her concerned. Harry stepped up to her other side, still visibly upset with what happened.

“Do not worry Hermione, he cannot expel you just like that” he said. “Professor Dumbledore would never allow that.”

“I.. I know. I think…” she stammered.

“Just what is wrong with that git?” Harry asked, outraged. “It was way out of line to attack you like that. I get that he does not like me, but you are undoubtably the smartest of us all, calling you all those names was totally uncalled for.”

“Maybe he is on his period” Ron snickered. Hermione appreciated what her friends were trying to do, but she felt she was about to burst by the seams and she did not want them to see.

“Thank you, Harry, Ron” she stammered. “I… I am, ok. I really am. I just need… to go to the bathroom. Just a few minutes” she looked at them pleadingly. “I will see you at transfigurations” she added quickly, and slipped away before they could stop her. She did head to the nearest bathroom, her whole body shaking and her composure unravelling. With no potion to concentrate on she could no longer push her feelings out of the way, and they flooded back with vengeance, the taunting voice of professor Snape ringing in her ear. _Obnoxious, self-important irritating, conceited little girl with delusions of intelligence…_ She emptied her stomach into the toilet, and sank to the floor crying. She felt as if a severe, yet unknown punishment was hanging over her head, which made her stomach knot in fear and her limbs tremble.

Memories from her childhood swum to the surface. Being confined to her room for receiving a B+ in grammar. Her dad confiscating her favourite plushie when she made a few mistakes in her maths test, even though she still got an A. Being bullied and teased mercilessly by her classmates. Her mum comparing her to her best friends daughter, who helped so much more in the household than she did. Her dad telling her that the neighbour girl her age had her own job and earned pocket money. Being told that her cousin was more polite and tidy. Being told the daughter of their dental assistant had more friends and was a more popular girl. She just wasn’t smart enough for them, no matter how good her grades were, not tidy enough, not hardworking enough, not polite enough, not helpful enough, not kind enough, not popular enough… just not enough. She remembered having no friends in her first year, Harry and Ron abandoning in her their third year over a broom and a rat, Ron dropping her like a hot potato for Lavender, the overwhelming pain of loneliness even when surrounded by people, being told by professor Snape she was _short-sighted, close-minded, insufferable know-it all_ … She was not good enough to be a friend, she was not likable enough, not important enough for others to care, not pretty enough to be wanted, not smart enough… jut not enough for anyone.

She buried her face in her hands, and allowed the sobs to break free. She did not expect his words to cut so deep, but they did, burning like hot wire in her mind. She was not sure if this was because he was her teacher, or because she cared about what he thought of her, but the words infused with his cold fury and disgust made her want to curl up and never leave the bathroom. She knew that her parents were demanding the impossible from her, that she did not fail them, but knowing did not make it not hurt, it did not make the feelings go away and it was suddenly all mixed up with what professor Snape said. Like with her parents, she could not help caring about it, it was important what he thought of her. … _Extensive life experiences of a stupid little schoolgirl… disaster of busy head of yours… Regurgitating book texts will only get you killed…_ The worst of all was that he had been right. She was doing a disservice to Ron and Harry by helping them in class. She had very little real life experience, she was all just textbook knowledge, thin as the paper it was printed on. She was way too eager for the praise of her teachers, she was way too proud of what she red. She was not ready for the real world and what was waiting for them outside. The truth hurt, and even though she knew that professor Snape delivered it probably more cruelly than strictly necessary, it did get his point across. It was also more painful to consider how the potions master thought about her than she cared to admit. _A stupid little schoolgirl…_ She had a lot of growing up to do. She was not smart enough, experienced enough, wise enough. She was just… not enough.

She gave herself some time to allow her tears to flow, until her sobs started to become less frequent, and her mind slowly numbed to the emotional pain again. With a shuddering breath she pulled herself together, trying to push her old pains and hurts back. It was done. This was what she wanted, what she asked for, and she had no choice but to keep going and she would keep going. She was a Gryffindor. She clambered to her feet and blew her nose in a piece of toilet paper, then flushed away the remnants of her breakfast. She splashed some cold water on her face, looking up in the mirror. She looked terrible, her nose red, her eyes puffy and shiny, her hair sticking out. She run her wet fingers through her hair, but there was little she could do to make it better. Fleetingly she wished she knew some of the beauty charms Parvati and Lavender used. With a deep sigh she gave up on the lost cause, and flung her bag over her shoulder, heading to transfigurations class. The last thing she needed was making professor McGonagall angry too.

She took her seat next to Ron and Harry just before her head of house walked in. Her friends seemed to want to ask questions, but she hushed them. She wished she had had time to eat the muffin in her bag, after all the adrenaline and meagre breakfast she was starting to feel shaky and tired.

The transfiguration class also started by listening to the importance of their NEWT exams and the details of the personal projects they were supposed to be working on. She took careful notes, her breathing slowly returning to normal. Professor McGonagall has set them a series of transfiguration tasks to practice. Bugs to buttons, a turtle to a jewellery box, a bread box into a guineapig, a chair into a desk, a cauldron into a bookshelf, a tissue into a towel, a canary to an owl. These were all exercises from previous years, and it took her no effort to remember the spells. Taking her first lesson from professor Snape, she decided against helping her friends with the tasks they were struggling with. Instead, she got her transfiguration book out, and started to read.

When the lesson ended, Harry still did not manage to turn his turtle into a box, and Ron was struggling with the canary to owl. Maybe she would point them to the right book to look up what they needed to know. They all rose to leave, when she heard professor McGonagall to call out over the noise of scraping chairs.

“Miss Granger, a word please.”

“Go” she said to Harry and Ron. “I will join you at lunch” she promised, and turned to walk to the front of the classroom with a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She stood in front of the head of her house, staring at her shoes. The transfiguration professor waited until the room emptied out before she addressed her.

“Miss Granger, is it true what I heard, did you draw your wand on professor Snape?” she asked in a disappointed tone. It hurt more than it would have if she had started shouting.

“Yes, professor” she muttered.

“I have expected better from you, Miss Granger.” Her statement felt like a whiplash, and Hermione could not help but flinch away. “Please explain it to me what happened.” Her teacher said. She looked up at the disapproving expression, the lips of the professor pressed into a thin, angry line.

“Professor Snape was expressing his disapproval about my work. It… it made Harry very angry, and he.. he tried to hit the professor” she felt ashamed about getting Harry into trouble too. “Professor Snape flung Harry away with magic and threatened to punish him by hexing him. I… I wasn’t thinking.” Whatever her head of house saw in her face, made her features mellow out.

“That was an incredibly foolish thing to do, Miss Granger” she said eventually in a soft tone. “I hope you do understand that Severus has an image to uphold. I know that it can be very difficult to keep calm when he unleashes at one, but you must learn to keep control, even if the accusations are unfair, or if he seems to threaten your friends.”

“No, I understand, professor. He may have been harsh, but he was right” she looked at her shoes in shame.

“Miss Granger” she felt her hand on her shoulder. “I cannot and will not do anything about these detentions, you’ll simply haveto serve them. But I very much doubt that professor Snape did not at least vastly exaggerate in his claims. No one is perfect, but I have yet to find something worth criticising in your work morale” she gave her an encouraging smile. “Truth to be told, professor Snape is quite overworked and under a lot of pressure. It would not surprise me if he had taken it out on you, my dear. Also, if you can help him with some ingredient preparation or restocking the infirmary with healing potions and lessen that workload it would be a great help for him and the Order. And if the detentions become too much, you should come and talk to me, my dear.”

“Thank you, professor.”

“In the meantime, just keep your head down. Now, go and get yourself something to eat, you look like you are ready to fall over.” She sounded genuinely concerned.

She left to join her friends for lunch, feeling even worse than before. She hated to have disappointed her head of house, but even worse, she felt she did not deserve her sympathy. She felt like a fraud and a fake, she had manufactured the whole situation, misleading her, lying to her friends, keeping secrets from the headmaster.


	12. Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Neither the world or the characters are mine, I merely borrowed the to have a bit of fun. When I am finished, I will return them slightly used.  
> \---
> 
> Special thanks for the reviews for:
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> buttons1721  
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> Hermione4Life23  
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> And everyone who left me kudos. Feedback makes a writer happy :)

Hermione spent her free period after lunch in the library. Harry and Ron had a flying lesson, and she was somewhat relived that they had to leave. She loved her friends, and they did everything in their power to cheer her up, but there was only so much Snape-bashing she could listen to, especially when she knew that the potions master had a point. Also, she desperately wanted to not think about what just happened in his class. The story seemed to be spreading through the castle faster than wildfire, she saw more than one student sending pitying looks in her direction.

She busied herself with what she did best: research. She pulled half a dozen of book on defensive charms and spells, and got to work. They did agree with her friends that everyone would learn new defensive and offensive magic, and she wanted to start with a good shielding charm. Not the simple one they learned in defence class though. She wanted something that provided more all around protection, not just in front of her, something that could stop any kind of magic, not just curses and could keep out physical objects too. It also had to be something one could activate extremely fast. That was quite a tall order, but she was ready to sink a lot of work into this one. A really good shield could save lives, could change the flow of the war.

When it was time to head to the great hall for dinner, she checked out six books with a bored looking madam Pince. Probably she did not have much to do this early in the school year. Folding her treasure under her arm she joined the flow of students trickling towards dinner. When she entered the great hall, she could immediately see her friends – a very wet patch of Gryffindors sitting at their table. It must have been raining hard during the flying lesson. She went to sit next to Harry, careful to keep her books dry.

“Hey, Hermione” they greeted her with a wide grin. Apparently they enjoyed flying even if the weather conditions were despicable. “I see after seven years you found where the library is” he joked. Ron snorted into his pumpkin juice.

“Would be more of a surprise if she realised there were other places in the castle” he piled some more potatoes on his plate. Hermione knew her friends were just teasing her with no intention to hurt her feelings. She looked at them seriously and drew up an eyebrow like the potions master would.

“Is that so, Mr Weasley?” she asked and had to laugh when her friends shuddered, droplets of water falling from the tips of his soggy hair.

“Please don’t do that” Ron whispered. “I am trying to eat here.”

“I thought you would not want to, you know, think of the dungeon bat after the way you… after the last lesson” Harry muttered. She suddenly regretted the reference, she did not want to think about what went down in potions class, nor worry about her upcoming detention. A heavy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, her appetite gone.

“Well, _professor_ Snape” she put extra emphasis on the honorific “has an image and cover to maintain. He can hardly be seen being anything less than cruel to us. There are a number of Death Eater kids in the class, reporting home to daddy” she explained, drawing her wand. She pointed it at Harry first, casting a nonverbal spell to dry his clothes, then hair.

“Wow, thanks Hermione” he said with a grin and proceeded to wipe his glasses in his now steaming warm robes, while she continued to help Ron. “I was starting to get worried I would not have time to change before I had to go see Filch” Harry added. Ron pulled a face, trying to say something, but seeing the warning glance Hermione sent his way, he decided to chew his food first and swallow before doing so.

“If you are told to polish all those awards in the trophy room, you will be busy till midnight mate” he said eventually. “I think I will never forget what Special Award for Services to the School award looks like, I had to shine it like a dozen times, while you were helping Lockhart answer his fan mail.”

“Well, I would have loved to trade places” Harry retorted.

“You’ll get the chance now” Ron sniggered.

“Actually, that reminds me.. that Special Award for Services to the School was given to Voldemort right? Because the headmaster at that time had hay for brains and believed that it was Hagrid who opened the Chamber of Secrets.”

“Do not use the name” Ron shuddered again. “But essentially, yes” he said suddenly deep in thought. “I wonder why no one thought of taking it back from him, after all, now we know the truth.”

“Exactly what I was about to ask” Harry nodded.

“I guess with the students getting petrified everyone was focused on more important things” Hermione remarked.

“Probably. I think it would be time to have it taken back” Harry mused. “I will mention it to professor Dumbledore the next time I see him, that would be a statement from the school about where they stand in this war. If anything, you would have deserved one too, Hermione. You were the one who figured out it was a basilisk and it used the pipes.” Her friends suggestion filled her with warmth.

“Thank you Harry, but the two of you risked so much more, you knowingly walked into the danger, I did very little compared to that. Besides, those two awards were enough to win the house cup.”

“Well, if you are sure” he dropped the topic. “I cannot believe it is only the second day of the term, and I already have this many detentions lined up. I don't even have a weekend to look forward to” he whined. “It feels like as if Umbridge was back.”

“Luckily professor Zhuang looks a lot more competent” Hermione mused.

“And way hotter too. Wonder what she would look like in a bikini” Ron added enthusiastically. She only rolled her eyes, but Harry made a grimace.

“Eww, do not make me imagine Umbridge in a bikini. Or without.”

Ron turned green. “Now that is an image that makes my balls want to crawl back up in my stomach and ruin my appetite.” Hermione sniggered and finished the last of her apple pie.

“We better get going” Harry announced dejectedly. “I do not want to know what would be the consequences to being late to detention.” She had to agree. Grabbing her pile of defence books, she stood, wished a good evening to her fellow Gryffindors, and started walking towards the dungeons.

She was nervous, and did not know what to expect. The feeling of a terrible punishment hanging over her head again returned, and she kept chewing her lover lip. She kept telling herself that it would all be OK, but the closer she drew to the professors study, the less she believed herself. Her feet were sweating and she had not mere butterflies in her stomach, it was a hornets nest by the time she reached her destination. With a trembling hand, she knocked on the door.

“Enter” came in the cold voice of the potions professor. She pushed the door open and stepped into the room. He was sitting behind his desk, marking student's essays.

“Good evening, professor Snape. I am here for my detention” she announced.

“Miss Granger, stating the obvious, as always” he sneered placing his quill back into a pot of red ink. She stood in her spot, wringing her hands nervously, her stomach making somersaults.

“You may put your things down there” He indicated at an empty table. She placed her pile of books on top of it and put her school bag onto the floor. He stood from his chair adjusting the buttons on his cuffs. Hermione bit her lower lip, considering carefully what she should do.

“I... I am very sorry professor” she blurted it out. She was holding onto the edge of her robe as it was some kind of lifeline that kept her from drowning, her fingers turning white. “About the class. I meant no disrespect. I am very sorry if... if I gave the impression that I knew more than you sir.” Her eyes were stating to fill with unshed tears again. He looked up at her from his button as if he saw her for the first time. His eyes lingered on her face while she continued to try to apologise to him, though she did not know if she had all the right words to express everything she felt. “I will try to do my best in the future to be less of an annoyance and...” She felt one of the tears roll down her cheek, embarrassed that he would see her cry again. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a pained expression on his face and a deep sigh.

“Miss Granger” he said in a tone usually reserved for the slowest of his students, when he was trying to point out the painfully obvious. “I was under the impression that you understood that what happened in class was an act.” He rubbed his face, looking tired.

“But... you were correct about me, sir” she admitted, her voice high pitched and breaking. “I do not have enough experience, I am all just books and texts and... and...” she said looking at her toes. With a deep sigh, he stepped closer to her, and with his left hand gently lifted her chin to look at him.

“Miss Granger, there may have been a little bit of truth in what I said about you helping Weasley and Potter all the time. However, you should not doubt that you are an intelligent, smart, resourceful, reliable witch. You are quick to follow any new topic, learn fast and you understand the implications nearly immediately. You have scientific curiosity and appreciate the excitement of discovery, you are a fierce but open-minded debater. Yes, you are still relative young and yes, you still need to obtain more experience, but you know far more than any of your peers, or even people a decade older than you. At such a young age you have already outsmarted Salazar Slytherin when you figured out that there was a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, uncovered a deatheater who had been hiding from the law, helped Potter get through the Triwizard tournament, faced death-eaters both in the Ministry of Magic and in the school last year, helped us get rid of that toad the ministry sent here two year ago, and came up with a brilliant plan to destroy horcruxes, which will change the course of this war. This is more than what most Order member have done. You even managed to help Longbottom pass potions for five years, which is beyond impressive” he added with a smirk, letting her chin go. “Yes, you should stop helping Potter and Weasley that much, and yes, you should not let others see all you can do, but we have already discussed that. This display will serve as an excellent excuse for you to start keeping knowledge to yourself and raise your hand less often in class.”

Hermione was reeling from what she was hearing. Intelligent... resourceful, her head was spinning with it. Something tight in her chest had broken open, and relief flooded her. She could not explain why, but she started crying, sobs tearing free from her. She tried to dab at her eyes with the back of her hand, she tried to calm her breathing, but there was no stopping the waterworks. The potions master watched her looking completely lost. She could relate, she did not understand her own reaction either. His words had filled her with a kind of warmth she had not felt in a long time, gave her immense pride. It felt as if she was a helium balloon, light, oh so light and ready to float away. If she wanted to be honest the world seemed and felt a bit unreal around her, soft and fuzzy at the edges, as if she was in a strange dream.

“There, there” he said, patting her back gently, looking more than a bit confused. She grabbed onto the front of his robes. She noted absently that his clothes smelled like cinnamon, grapefruit and sandalwood, warm, earthy, spicy. She allowed her tears to flow, while he just stood there awkwardly. His praise has meant the world to her, she was more proud of it than her innumerable outstanding OWLs, it made her happier than all the gifts she got last Christmas, so why was she crying? Knowing that Severus Snape did not hate her, that he thought she was smart and intelligent... it gave her the feeling that the world was tilting around its corner, moving, spinning and it suddenly righted itself. She felt that everything had been out of balance, as if she had been looking at reality through a lens of distortion, and now it righted itself. Professor Snape was angry with her for being a know-it-all, but Severus Snape though she had brilliant ideas. Professor Snape thought she was just regurgitating text books, Severus Snape thought she had scientific curiosity. Professor Snape thought she was a naive, obnoxious little girl, Severus Snape said she was more accomplished and experienced than most other Order members. Severus Snape liked his coffee with three sugars, cream and cinnamon, professor Snape took it black. But that was all right, Severus Snape was real, and professor Snape was just the mask he had to wear, one she got to take a peek behind.

“There, there” he patted her back again uncomfortably, standing over her in a rigid posture. He was a master of many arts, but apparently comforting sobbing young witches was not one of his numerous talents. The idea made her giggle, and it helped her to dry her tears. She stepped back, her last hiccing sobs dying away, smiling a board smile at her teacher.

“Thank you, professor. It... it means the world to me to hear that” she admitted. “I.. I am very sorry for this” she explained gesturing at her own face, washed in tears and snot dripping from her nose. She drew a handkerchief from her pocket. “I... I honestly do not know what got into me” she added blowing her nose. She saw there was a dark, wet patch on his robes where her tears have soak the fabric.

“That is fine, Miss Granger” he answered still looking bewildered but relived. “If you managed to compose yourself, please put on the robes I gave you, and we can begin with brewing, we have quite a bit of work to do.”

She finished blowing her nose, and went to retrieve the special 'dunderhead proof' robes she got. She shrugged into the heavy fabric, and waved her wand wordlessly to button the millions of buttons on it. Secretly she enjoyed how alike they looked in it, she could have gotten used to the dramatics of the billowing cloak.

“We will be working in my private lab” he announced turning away. He walked to a door behind his desk, and motioned for Hermione to follow him. She hurried across the study with the faded black fabric flapping around her, and stepped into a room that reminded her a lot of the lab at Grimmauld place. She realised it must have been professor Snape who designed the layout of said workplace, and he probably wanted to create something similar to what he was already used to. There were several worktables in the room, a door that probably led to a supply cabinet, shelves and cupboards that held knives, cauldrons, stirring rods, mortars, cutting boards and other supplies. One of the work benches held piles of ingredients, and another had a cauldron on it with some sort of potion that let out a loud popping noise intermittently, like someone blowing bubbles from gum. Probably _the Essence of void_.

“We have reached a state of this potion here that needs what is called tandem brewing” he explained. “This is not the same as two students working together in class. This means that ingredients need to be added that have to be prepared fresh on the spot, and the two potioneers need to do the preparing and the adding together. There will be quite a few instances that we need to do this in the upcoming weeks. Tonight, it will be first fire crab shells” he gestured to a bucket sitting on the floor “which I will be preparing, and humming walnut extract.” He pushed a bowl in front of her.

For the next few minutes they kept working together in silence. Hermione stole a few glances at him, watching the expert moves as he handled the ingredients with surety and speed. He chose to take on the more finicky task, yet he was progressing at a lot greater speed. When they were finished, they both had to stand over the cauldron, and drop ingredients at the same time. One crab shall, one humming walnut, one dandelion leaf, one camomile flower. The position of where the ingredients had to hit the surface mattered too. They had to repeat the process precisely nine times, the position of the ingredients moving around in a clockwise manner. It required a very careful cooperation, their arms moving nearly like a dance, without hitting each other or getting in each other's way. The first few drops were somewhat awkward, not enough room to move, bumping into each other a few times, having to stand very close to each other so that they could both reach all the ingredients when it was their turn to drop them in the brew. Hermione realised that she became hyper-aware of his presence while they were working, and begun to be able to anticipate his next moves better and better. It was a complex dance of their hands, stirring, reaching, counting, dropping, perfectly timed like a Swiss watch.

They had to repeat the tandem brewing stage three times with the potion, using different ingredients, before they were finished with it for the day, and by the time they added the last ingredient, their movements felt well-practiced and in perfect harmony. When the last set of herbs hit the surface of the brew, it turned to a bright bubble-gum-pink colour, as expected. Hermione let out a sigh of relief, and smiled at the potions master over the cauldron. They did it, she was proud of their work. The potion would need to shimmer a few days before it had to be decanted and they could go on with the preparation. The corners of his mouth pulled up a touch too.

“I think we earned a coffee break” she announced, lacing her fingers together, and stretching her arms above her head.

“Very well, we can take a refreshment in my office before we continue with the preparation of the _Prison of magic_.” They returned to his study. He sat in his usual green leather chair behind his desk, while Hermione sank gratefully into a chair meant for visitors. Driven by a sudden idea, she called out.

“Dobby!” the house elf appeared in the study with a loud pop. This time he was wearing two different socks on his feet, one orange and one rainbow coloured, a pair of khaki shorts, a light-reflecting vest in an eye-searing green colour, a blue tie with yellow rubber duckies on it, and a baseball cap with Mickey Mouse ears on it. His clothes were mismatched, but immaculately clean.

“How can Dobby help the friend of Harry Potter?” he asked with an enthusiastic smile, bowing to Hermione. She noticed that he also sported a black eye.

“Thank you Dobby” she greeted him. “We would like some coffee, please. Can you please prepare one for me with a bit of cinnamon, three sugars and cream and a black one for professor Snape?”

“Dobby will make the best coffee young Miss ever had!” he answered enthusiastically. “Can Dobby do anything else?”

“Thank you. It is very important that no one knows that I am here working with Professor Snape” she said seriously. “I am sure you know that the wizarding world is at war, and what we are doing here will help Harry, but it must remain a secret. Can you promise not to tell anyone, not even by accident?”

“Dobby is a good house elf” he repeated. “Dobby will keep the secrets of Miss Harry Potter's friend!” he exclaimed. “Dobby will rather iron his own hands than say anything” he gave her another bow and disappeared with a pop.

“Miss Harry Potter's friend?” Snape asked with an arched brow.

“I think Harry is Dobby's most favourite person in the world, he means that as a compliment” she explained. “Dobby was abused terribly by his former owners, and Harry tricked them to free the elf.”

“Ah, I did think he seemed rather familiar. Was he the elf of Lucius?” he asked. It did not occur to Hermione that the potions master may have had a causal relationship with Malfoy senior, but it made sense. They were fellow Slytherins, Death Eaters and he was the teacher and head of house of Draco, not to mention he had saved the young man's life last year.

“Yes, he...” before she could have finished her sentence, Dobby has reappeared with a pop, balancing a huge tray. He set it down on the desk between them. There were two cups, one Gryffindor red with gold edges and a lion, the other Slytherin green with a silver round and a snake for a handle. The first held a light coloured creamy substance, the second black coffee. There was also a coffee pot, a cream jug, sugar, and a plate of different cookies on the tray.

“Thank you, Dobby, that looks great!” she beamed.

“Dobby is happy to help, Miss” he insisted enthusiastically.

“Can you please tell me what happened to you eye?” she asked concerned. The ears of the little elf drooped sadly.

“Winky is not well, Miss. Winky drinks a lot of butterbeer, and when she does... she is not a very good elf. Dobby tries to help. Dobby understands that Winky is just sad, but Winky often hurts Dobby.” Hermione's heart twisted painfully at the sad expression of the elf. She decided that she would try to help the poor little elf, but this was not the right time for that.

“Thank you, Dobby. Can I talk to you later? I want to help you to make Winky feel better.”

“Dobby doesn't think that Miss friend of Harry Potter can help, but Dobby is happy to talk” he said giving them a bow, and disappeared with a pop. Hermione returned her attention to the tray on the table. The red cup was closer to her. She turned the tray around, until the Slytherin mug was on her side, and picked it up. The potions master took the offending red cup, taking a sip. Hermione grinned into her own drink, trying to commit the image to her memory.

“I hear you have found yourself another project to work on” he drawled, setting down the china with a chink. “The year only begun two days ago, and you are already buried in projects” he motioned towards the pile of library books sitting on the side table. “What is so urgent that you had to start researching it this soon?” he asked, his tone lacking the usual mockery.

“Ah. Have you met professor Zhuang yet, sir?” she asked. If the seemingly off-topic question surprised him, he did not show it.

“Only in passing” he replied picking up one of the chocolate chip cookies Dobby left for them. Why?”

“Have you heard what happened at the train station?” she asked back taking a sip of her black brew.

“Rumours only” he replied, taking a bite. “I take you were there in person?”

“Yes, sir. In short, Logan Davis was trying to cajole his girlfriend, Vicky into some kissing and... something more” she added blushing slightly. She was not going to give him the details on what he wanted. “It was obvious she was not willing under the circumstances, and I decided to intervene when professor Zhuang appeared.”

“Yes, she was tasked to chaperone the students this year” he explained.

“Well, Logan was rather self-assured and wanted to play the situation off as if I was trying to interrupt a mutually wanted snogging session. The professor did not buy it, and after expressing that she disliked being lied to, she has hit him with something. I think it was a bolt of raw magic, I have never seen anything like that in my life. She did not do anything I could see. Not a movement, not an incantation not a casting... it just simply jumped out of her, and hit Logan right in his privates.” Hermione noticed that Severus Snape crossed his legs discreetly, but she decided not to mention it. Men and their family jewels. “Logan collapsed to his knees, whining and crying, clearly in a lot of pain. The magic left a kind of burning scent on the air, and when it passed by me, it felt like a swarm of angry bees. I know I am not an expert on scary things, but the professor absolutely terrifies me” she admitted.

“Miss Granger, by now you have faced head on a basilisk, a werewolf, devil's snare, a heard of angry centaurs, a giant, several groups of death-eaters, dementors, a three headed monster dog and who knows what else on the hay-brained adventures Potter dragged you along on. If you say that you found something unsettling about our new defence against the dark arts teacher, I am inclined to believe you. The ability to command raw magic is very unusual but by itself not that frightening. Being magikinetic is one of the rarer inborn abilities, like being a parselmouth, a natural legilimens, being telekinetic or a metamorphmagus” he added lifting his cup to his lips. “There must have been something more that made you feel so anxious.”

“It is hard to put it into words” she explained. “But there was something cold and nonchalant about the professor, like she truly did not care about what was happening. Like it did not matter to her if he, or even we all were hurt seriously. I mean, Logan deserved every second of inconvenience” he grimaced at her choice of words “he got to experience, no questions there. But when she was done, she just gave all Gryffindor boys detention to attend a seminar on consent and left. She never asked how Vicky was doing, and the poor girl was scared out of her mind that next is her turn. She did not understand why Logan was in trouble, I had to explain it to her. While I think he is a pile of nincompoop, he is a student of this institute and it is supposed to be her responsibility to make sure that all of us made it to the castle safely, even him. But she just walked away. I told Harry and Ron to take care of that idiot, and walked Vicky to the carriages. The scary thing wasn't just what the professor could do, but that she would, and she would feel nothing about it, not any more than stepping on a bug.”

“She probably assumed you as a head girl would take care of it” he suggested.

“Yes, but you know how it is about assume. It makes an ass of u and me” he answered cheekily. He snorted into his coffee. “She should have made sure it would happen. And while I personally feel that Logan deserved what he got shooting the privates of a student with raw magic is hardly an appropriate punishment.”

“That is an intriguing insight, I admit” he uncrossed his legs. “But I fail to see what it has to do with half of the defence section of the library sitting on that table.” The corners of his lips tugged up into a half-smile.

“Ah, yes” she blushed about having forgotten why she started with the story. “I am genuinely scared of her and what she could and would do. I do not think she would do serious or permanent damage to us on purpose, but I also believe she could kind of forget that it could happen or underestimate the danger. And if it did happen, I doubt it would bother her much. I want to find a good shielding spell that can give me protection from her raw magic bolts, among other things. Preferably something that has a large spatial coverage, spherical would be best, but it needs to be something that can be cast in a split of a second. I will not have time to do complex wand-waving when that thing is coming for us.”

“And have you found what you were looking for?” he asked downing the last of his coffee.

“Not yet, sir. Some of the things are promising, but either not robust or not fast enough.”

“Stay here” he said setting down his cup with a chink. He strode to a plain section of wall and waved his hand. A ward glowed green and a piece of the wall revealed itself to be a secret door that opened into another room. She could only see a small section of it from where she was sitting, but it must have been part of his private quarters. She could see the edge of an armchair, a piece of a wooden floor and a corner of a bookcase before the door closed behind him. Intrigued, she set down her own empty cup waiting for his return. He must have known exactly what he was looking for because it only took him a minute or two to return with a leather-bound book in his hand.

“You will probably find this spell very useful” he said setting it down in front of her. She immediately recognised the book as being part of the famous Hamilton series. The book collection contained nine volumes on different topics, and there were only a few dozen in circulation of each, even incomplete, bad copies were priceless. If he kept such a book on a shelf in his own selection, she would be dying to be able to brows though his library.

“Is this...” she said with a gasp. He smirked.

“Yes. Volume five on defence.” He studied her face, and she felt herself blush with excitement to get to see such a rare treasure. As if reading her mind, he added “And yes, I do own more than one book from the series. No not all of them, and no, you may not invade my private quarters to ransack my library.” She felt her cheeks turn a deep red at how easily he guessed what she was thinking. He only reacted to that with a self-assured smirk. Slytherins.

The book was open at a page showing a complex diagram and magic chart. “This is extremely complex defensive magic” he warned. “It can do what you requested, and it seems easy and fast to cast, but it isn't. The only way to get it to work in a timely manner is practice until you develop muscle memory. Hundreds and hundreds of times to make it become second nature.” She was already impressed with his library, but anyone with money could own rare books. He was apparently also very familiar with what they contained, not that she expected any less of him.

“Thank you, sir. This is exactly what I was looking for” she said delighted. Carefully she lifted the book, studying the page.

“You may borrow it to study the spell, but make sure no one sees you with it. I am not in the habit of lending my books to anyone, let alone a student.” She was absolutely giddy with the notion that she could take the book with her, that he would trust her with such a valuable possession. This is what Ron may have felt if one of the Cannons took him for a round of flying.

“Thank you, professor” she said gratefully, holding the book against her chest with a brilliant smile.

“I will expect it back next time you are coming to detention. I do not think I have to warn you to take good care of it.”

“Of course not, sir” she said slightly offended. “That goes without saying.”

“In that case I think it is time continue our work” he suggested. Hermione carefully hid the book in her bag, making sure no one would see it and nothing would happen to it. Before walking back to the lab she took her time to turn the tray around once more, so the Gryffindor cup would be closer to where she sat and the Slytherin cup would be at the potions master’s end of the table. Just in case.


	13. Getting to know you better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Neither the world or the characters are mine, I merely borrowed the to have a bit of fun. When I am finished, I will return them slightly used.  
>  \---
> 
> Special thanks for the reviews for:
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> And everyone who left me kudos. Feedback makes a writer happy :)

Hermione actually skipped History of Magic class to be able to copy the book Severus Snape lent her. She felt a bit guilty, it was only the third day of the new school year, and she was already in detention and skipping classes. Usually that took a little bit longer, but she simply could not allow such an opportunity to go to waste. With a bit of luck she would find a number of useful defensive spells in there that would go a long way with learning to protect herself. Also, professor Binns would never realise he had a student less in his class, and anyone else would only think she had a free period.

She made an extra copy of the relevant pages, and red the theory of the shield. The potions master was right, it was not a simple thing. The idea behind how it worked was fascinating though. The magic one would expand for creating such a shield would be channelled in an anti-clockwise circular-spherical pattern on the surface of the shield. Most spells and curses were stationary, a circling, rotating motion would deflect them easily. Some spells had an element of rotation to them, but most were clockwise, hence the direction in this case. The flow of the power would make magic solid enough to counter physical projectiles too, though she would not attempt to use it against muggle guns without some serious testing. Even then removing the gun from the wielder sounded like a better option, or stunning the gunman.

She had three free periods a week. One on Tuesday, while most of her classmates were taking flying lessons. She though she and Neville were the only ones not continuing with that particular class. One on Wednesdays, when some of the air-headed students ascended to the incense-imbued tower of Trelawney to ‘broaden their minds and open their senses’, and one on Friday when others would take muggle studies. She has dedicated her free period of divination to learning, or at least starting to learn the shield charm. She wanted to have something before Thursday and their defence against the dark arts lessons.

Hermione was used to getting the hang of things fast. To her frustration this spell has proven to be one of the exceptions. At the end of her free period she only managed three more-or-less acceptable attempts, though she could not keep it up for long, and the radius of her shield was smaller than what she would have wished for. She continued her study when they were finished with the afternoon lessons (double charms) rather late in the night. When she turned in she was still not happy with her reaction time, but at least she could produce a shield reliably each time she tried, even if the resistance it offered still had quite a bit of room for improvement.

Thus when Thursday morning found her standing in front of the Defence against the dark arts class, she felt she was as prepared as she could be for the time being. Most of her classmates were talking amongst themselves excitedly. Lavender and Parvati were discussing a new charm that would ensure that you did not go outside the line when painting your nails, Dean, Ron and Seamus were excited about having a ‘hot’ teacher for the first time since forever. She and Harry had been listening to Neville describe the exciting herbology project he hoped to do for his NEWTs, and she had to admit, it was well thought-out, challenging, useful and interesting. Actually, she was a bit jealous she did not come up with the idea herself.

Exactly at nine the door opened all by itself, and they took their usual place in the classroom. Hermione looked around with curiosity – all the previous teachers have filled the room with some of their own personality. Lockhart had his own pictures hanging on the walls, Lupin placed all kinds of intriguing dark creatures in terrariums in the room. The fake Moody had auror equipment on the shelves, and she had to supress a shudder thinking of the pink walls and collection of saucers depicting cats that Umbridge hung on the walls. She still remembered the gruesome pictures of curses and hexes professor Snape decorated with. To her surprise professor Zhuang left the walls empty and barren, revealing nothing of her plans or personality.

The professor herself was standing next to her desk wearing Mary Jean shoes and a dress she could not describe in any other way than cute, which enhanced her likeness to a doll. Her eyes though, were moving around in a calculating, observing way that made her feel like she was a bug under someone’s magnifier glass.

Once everyone settled in their seat, she lifted her wand and closed the door with a casual flick and a soft thud. The sparsely furnished room had a strange echoing effect.

“Good morning, class, and welcome to your last year of defence against the dark arts study. My name is Xiaohan Zhuang, and I will be your instructor this year” she flicked her wand at the blackboard, her name appearing in a calligraphic, elegant handwriting. “Let us start the first class with getting to know each other better” Hermione could practically hear Ron grinning next to her. “Let’s start with taking attendance” she added jabbing her wand towards the ceiling. Hermione was not sure what gave her a foreboding feeling, but there was something suspicious about the move. She looked up and saw a mass of some kind of green potion floating in the air, just under the ceiling. Without thinking she called up the shield she had been practicing just as the teacher’s magic stopped supporting the brew and it fall on them.

This wasn’t exactly what she was practicing the spell for, she was more scared of her raw magic attacks, but it worked. She was not sure if she could have gotten the shield up in time if there had not been a few seconds of warning, but when the green goop fell down on them, she was sitting in a dry clean patch of her shield. Lucky for Harry, he was sitting close enough to her that most of him was also included in the dome of her protection, only his left shoulder and part of his arm was sticking out. Once she saw no more jelly hanging in the air she dropped the spell, it was very tiring to maintain it.

Suddenly the room was filled with a chorus of “ewe”. Parvati was literally screaming about the green goop running her hair and Lavender seemed to be in tears trying to shake it out of her robes. To her surprise there was only one other student who managed to keep themselves safe: Draco Malfoy. He seemed to be sitting in a very similar clear area she was in, but the expression on his face was wild. She had not paid any attention to the Slytherin this year yet, overly taken by her own problems, fears and projects, but upon inspection he did not seem to be doing well. His face was pale and thin, his hair lank and brittle. He was at one of the back rows, alone, without his usual goons at his sides. He was no longer sitting, he was crouching on the top of his desk, ready to jump, fight or run. On his face there was a mixture of panic, pain and aggression mixed, and his eyes were spinning wild, taking in his surroundings. Hermione wondered what could have happened to him last summer to put that expression on his face. Their eyes met for a second and an understanding passed between them. She wondered for a second if he had learned the shielding spell from the potions mater too. If professor Snape was familiar with the family house elf, he may have been a regular guest at Malfoy manor. She broke the eye contact and looked away. So much about an ace up her sleeve, she will need some new surprise to learn for this month, and she was not even done with this shield.

“Pathetic” professor Zhuang said in an empty tone. If it had been professor Snape giving the lesson she was sure his voice would have been dripping with venom and derision. Her voice was devoid of emotion. “Only actually two of you were present in my class.” The muttering died away, most students waiting for an explanation, many of them looking embarrassed. “What were the rest of you doing, thinking about? I am not sure if any of you noticed, but there is a war going on out there” she opened her arm in an arch to indicate she meant the real world. “And in a few months, this school will no longer offer its protection to you. You will have no choice but join the real world and succeed or die on your own merit. Judging by your reaction time, most likely die” she added nonchalantly. Hermione was starting to worry that the goop covering Ron might ruin her books, and drew her wand to clear away the slime.

“I am also curious why you all are just sitting around in that potion. It is poisonous, you know.” There was suddenly a flurry of movement, everyone trying to get out from the slime. She could hear Lavender screaming and sobbing hysterically.

“Stop!” Hermione commanded Ron, who was pointing his wand with a trembling hand at himself. She produced two potion vials from her bag, and filled it with the gooey substance. If the potion was magical they would need a sample to develop an antidote. She helped him get rid of the rest of the stuff, not trusting his trembling hand not to vanish his shirt along with it.

She saw as Neville walked up to Hannah and helped her getting rid of the potion, restoring her papers to their original state too, patting her hand gently. She blushed a deep red, but did not protest. Slowly the room was cleaned from the brew, and people settled down again, waiting nervously for the professor to continue.

“Are we going to die?” Lavender asked with a sob. Well, not everyone was settling down.

“Of course not” professor Zhuang said calmly. Hermione would have rolled her eyes, and professor Snape would have added “you imbecile” and sneered. Professor McGonagall would have pushed her lips into and angry, thin line, and Flitwick would have tried to calm them in a kind, cheerful manner. Professor Zhuang was just emotionless. “I’ve been informed that causing permanent harm to students is against school policies. But again, I have to ask why only one of you is actually doing any thinking in here. How are you going to develop an antidote if you don’t even know what you have been doused with?” There was a sudden silence, everyone staring at Hermione who was still holding the sample vials in her hand. She reddened under the scrunching eyes of her classmates.

“I am willing to help and share” she blurted it out.

“Really, and rob your classmates form the opportunity of a valuable lesson?” professor Zhuang tilted her head sideways. Hermione did not know what to say. The professor ignored her and took out a test tube holder from one of her desk drawers. It held a number of tubes filled with the slime. “Those of you that did not bottle their own sample can take one with them. And please, cease your hysterics, the poison is very slow acting. I would encourage you all to find an antidote yourself, but it is quite safe to wait until the weekend. School policies, you know. Now that we have gotten to know each other better, let’s start with our agenda. This year we will be focusing on self-defence, countering hexes, breaking curses, improving reflexes. In other words, the lessons will be designed to help you learn how to keep yourselves alive, and by the look of things you all need it. You are all way too trusting as it is now. But we will have ten long months to change that.” Her promise made a shiver run down on Hermione’s back, and it was not the good kind. “It might be unpleasant and leave some of you with a scar or two, but I am certain you will learn to cope.” Without warning she flicked her wand out and knocked Dean Thomas out of his chair. He crashed to the ground with a shriek, his chair tumbling with a loud thud. Suddenly everyone was sitting at the edge of their seats. Hermione was holding her wand, her palms sweating. Professor Zhuang continued as if nothing had happened.

“Today we will go though the most common counter-curses you need to know. It is essential that you learn to cast them non-verbal, as many hexes impend the ability to speak.” Dean was getting to his feet and righting his chair, holding his head in his hands. Hermione hoped he did not get a concussion from hitting the stone floor. The professor flicked her wand at the board, and a list of counter-hexes appeared. The whole class flinched at the movement, readying themselves for another surprise attack. “Are you not going to take notes? This is rather important to know.” Hermione heard a promise in her voice that said they would be all hexed within an inch of their lives just to see if they learned the counter curses. Most of her classmates were exchanging worried looks, no one wanted to let go of their wands in favour of a quill after what just happened to Dean. Hermione used the copying spell from her practical charms book. The rest of the lesson, the longest hour and a half she had to sit through went on with very few further incidents. The professor tried to send a hex in Harry’s way, who dodged and sent an _Expelliarmus_ back, but missed. Just before the bell rang Professor Zhuang unleashed a hive of wasps at them. They were large, angry and numerous, nearly impossible to hit with a spell one on one. Hermione could not keep up her shields while moving, or for any substantial duration for that matter, so she decided to follow suit of her classmates and run for it when the bell signalled the end of the lesson. In their haste to leave the room the rest of them have forgotten to collect their potion samples from the teacher’s desk.

“She is insane” Harry said with a wince while Hermione treated a wasp bite on his face. Ron was cradling his hard that had several angry marks on it, and Lavender collapsed in a sobbing mess, her hair tangled and sticking out in all directions, her make-up smeared and making her look like a little panda. Parvati was doing her best to console her.

“Well, at least it was memorable and instructive” Ron said with a grin. “I mean this was really useful. Not like Lockhart or Umbridge. Maybe painful, but efficient.”

“You just think she is hot” Hermione snorted derisively.

“Well, she is” Seamus agreed. “And Harry is right, but Ron has a point too.”

“So, what are we going to do about this?” Harry asked setting his glasses back in place.

“What do you mean?” Neville asked back, holding an ice-pack to his eye. One of the stings had started to swell.

“Well, this was obviously meant to make us think, prepare, keep us on our toes, to act” Hermione answered. “If this was the first lesson, I shudder to think what more she may have in store for us to make us less trusting. Did anyone else manage to get a sample of that goop?”

“Not me” Dean admitted. “I could not get out fast enough. I also did not manage to take notes, did not dare to let go of my wand after being knocked around.”

“Well, you can borrow my notes” Hermione offered. “I only have the two vials of potion, and I have detention with professor Snape tonight. Lucky us, we have a potions class this afternoon…”

“And you call that lucky?” Ron asked with a sneer. Hermione ignored him and continued.

“… and we should ask him to be allowed to use the potions classroom after class but before my detention to analyse the potion and come up with an anti-dote as soon as possible.”

“What is the rush? Professor Zhuang said it is ok to wait till the weekend” Seamus asked.

“She also said we are too trusting and she has a few months to fix that. At this point I do not trust what she is asking” she answered.

“It did look a lot like cackling tree sap to me” Neville volunteered. “Madam Pomfrey probably has an antidote on hand, it is a rather common poison.”

“I agree” Hermione nodded seriously. “I just do not trust that she has not spiked it with something else for the fun of it. I want to make sure we know of all the dangers. I will need some volunteers though, I do not think I will be able to make enough antidote for everyone before detention.”

“Not me” Neville said with something close to panic. “Dropping potions was the happiest moment of my life.” To her surprise Lavender and Parvati signed up for the work. They could not take the risk of sprouting pimples or something like that as the effect of the potion.

“Ok, so who is going to ask him to use the classroom?” she asked. Her friends were looking at her confused. “I am happy to help with identifying the poison and brewing the antidote, but I am not talking to him, not after the last class.”

“I can understand that” Parvati admitted. “The last lesson was… brutal.” Suddenly no one seemed to want to look at Hermione.

“Will you do it then?”

“Heavens, no” she seemed genuinely scared. “I do not want to be on the receiving end on his attention” she answered with a shudder.

“Come on” Hermione cajoled. “many of you have faced death eater in the Ministry.”

“Yeah, but death eaters only want to kill you or maybe torture you” Neville explained. “But professor Snape will, you know… snape at you.”

“I think Harry should do it” Dean volunteered.

“Why me? Everyone knows he hates my guts, he made sure I knew that from the first day on.”

“He hates everyone. But you were the leader of DA. You are the bravest of us all” Dean explained. His words were met with a chorus of approval from the others, and in the end Harry agreed with gritted teeth.

As they were walking down to potions class she felt that lately she had been spending most of her life in the dungeons. This time she sat in the last row, alone, apart from Harry and Ron like instructed in the last lesson. She was still somewhat nervous, though it could not even be compared to the last time she descended the stairs to the underbelly of the castle. She knew that _Severus Snape_ thought she was smart, she would just have to suck up what _professor Snape_ decided to dish out. Her fire-breathing potion, still under stasis was waiting for her. She saw that Draco also had a cauldron on his table, and so did Lisa Turpin. She wondered what the others were going to be doing.

She was jolted from her musings by the dungeon door bursting open with a bang. Professor Snape strode in, his cloak billowing after him. He tapped his wand against the blackboard, a new set of instructions appearing. “Those few of you who managed not to mess up their potions may proceed with the preparations. The rest of you imbeciles will be pickling and bottling winged toads to be used in potions for the hospital wing.” Hermione recognised that the _Prison of magic_ potion required a large number of pickled winged toads, and unlike most ingredients, it did not have to be fresh. This would help them immensely. “I expect two bottles filled from everyone by the end of the lesson. Anyone who fails to deliver that much will receive a Troll and a detention when they can catch up to the required amount and more.” He flicked his wand and bucket appeared on the floor, probably full of toads. “Begin.”

Hermione started her work by warding her table – there were only two other potions left in the run, but she still did not want any exploding potion droplets or toad eyes thrown into her potion. She copied the instructions onto a piece of parchment, and red and re-red them all trying to find what was missing, what was not mentioned explicitly. She concentrated on her own work, trying to ignore everything else going on in the classroom. She chopped, skinned, prepared and watched with pride as her potion kept turning the correct colour at the right steps.

“Your potion is supposed to be orange by now, Miss Turpin. Care to explain why it is pink?” an acerbic voice brought her out of her concentration. Professor Snape was leaning over Lisa’s cauldron. He used a ladle to lift some of the brew high and let it trickle back down so everyone could see the colour.

“I do not know, professor” Lisa admitted turning pink. “I have followed the instructions precisely.”

“You followed the instructions” he mocked. “Does anyone know what is wrong with this brew?” Hermione resisted the urge to raise her hand as the eyes of the potions master scanned the room. “No one? Not even our resident know-it-all?” he sneered at her. “Care to make a guess, Miss Granger, or is this simple task beyond your overpraised, mediocre abilities?”

“The potion has been contaminated, sir. Most likely with a feather from the wings of a toad, sir” she answered not daring to meet his eyes.

“That is correct” he vanished Lisa’s potion with a flick of his wrist. “That will be a Troll for you, Miss Turpin, and two scrolls on preventing cross-contamination techniques. Pray tell, Miss Granger, is raising your hand and answering questions in my class beneath you now? Five points from Gryffindor.” When she did not rise to his baiting, he continued. “Cat got your tong, Miss Granger, or do you deem responding to direct questions from me unworthy of your effort?”

“I apologise, Professor Snape” she said timidly, finally looking him in the eye. “Last lesson you gave me the impression that you did not wish to be exposed to any of my textbook answers, that I had to give others a chance to respond too and I was trying to respect your wishes.”

“Ten points from Gryffindor for cheek. Now continue with your work before I make it twenty.” She muttered a yes sir under her breath, and returned her attention to her potion. She kept telling herself that Professor Snape had to play a role, and he did not mean it. Severus Snape thought much better of her. She had to admit it was much easier to complete her work without having to guard Harry’s and Ron’s potions too. If she did not have to keep an eye out for the foul mood of Professor Snape, the work could have been downright relaxed.

The class continued without a further incident. Both her and Malfoy were able to complete their tasks, though she noted, her potion had a more vivid crimson colour than his. None the less, the professor ordered both of them to bottle all of their work. She had a hunch that he intended to use them for something. At the end of the lesson while everyone was busy packing their things and leaving the dungeon, Ron, Lavender and Parvati were waiting for Harry to approach the potions professor. He seemed to be again in a foul mood.

“Excuse me, professor” Harry started.

“What do you want Potter?”

“I would like to request the use of the potions classroom, sir. This defence against the dark arts class most of us were dosed by a poisonous brew by professor Zhuang, and we wish to make a counter-potion.” He explained.

“And how is that any of my problem?” he asked looking up from his papers.

“If we cannot brew it ourselves, we will have to go to the hospital wing, sir” he explained. He left the part unsaid where Madam Pomfrey would request him to do the brewing.

“Fine” he agreed with a long-suffering sigh. “You have time until dinner. Do not make me regret my decision.” He stayed in the room, grading papers while Hermione got down to work. She poured one of the potion samples into a cauldron, and used a nonverbal charm that helped separating some of the ingredients. She brewed some analytic potions, used a couple of tests kits, distilled some of the potion, and after two hours of analysing it, she came up with a list of four different kinds of active ingredients in it.

“The largest part of the goop was made up by cackling tree sap, as we suspected” Hermione shared her results with her friends. “There is also Cornish pixie dust, which will likely cause skin redness and itching, and develop angry blisters when scratched. There is also thestral urine…”

“ewe…” Parvati remarked.

“… which, if taken up through the skin can cause severe nightmares. The last one is fireweed milk, likely to cause muscle cramps and pain. Most of these will get worse in time. Luckily Madam Pomfrey should have an antidote for the cackling tree sap, and the thestral urine can be purified with the decontamination shower. Cornish pixie dust can be treated by a calming balm, which is a second year level potion, and fireweed milk can be countered by a very simple antidote we can make in twenty minutes.”

“That is good news” Harry beamed.

“Oh my god, we have urine on our skins” Parvati really got the most important thing.

“However” Hermione bit her lip thinking.

“That sounds less good.”

“Well, Golpalott's Third Law says antidote for a blended poison will be equal to more than the sum of the antidotes for each of the separate components. If this was something to be digested, well, I could come up with a solution, but, I do not know what to do for a topical treatment.”

“Do my ears deceive me?” professor Snape sneered, and her friends jumped. Apparently they have forgotten that their teacher was still in the room. Ever since they have done tandem brewing Hermione has been more aware of his presence. “Is there something that Miss Granger does not know?” He strode over to their table, picked up her parchment and started reading through her notes.

“Of course, sir.”

“You will need to create the base for the calming balm, add extra camomile at stage four. You should blend in the antidote for the crackling tree sap at step seven, add decontamination potion before mixing in the bark of a whomping willow, the fireweed milk antidote should be added when the potion turns green. The binding component for these poisons is three drops of blood, a lock of hair and ashwinder eggs, to be added before the stirring sequence.” Hermione quickly jotted the recipe down. She was about to look up from her notes and say ‘thank you sir’, but he has already billowed away.

“Well” she said to her friends. “The good news is, we know how to make the antidote. The bad news is, everyone needs to brew it themselves to be able to add their own hair and blood” she explained, checking the time. “We have twenty minutes left till dinner, it is still enough time for me to write out detailed instructions, but we won’t be able to start on the antidote.” She chewed on her lip.

“Tomorrow is another day” Harry commented.

“It should be safe to wait one more day with the antidote, but it will be very unpleasant” she commented. “This brew is nasty. First, you will get nightmares, thus you will be tired like hell tomorrow, less able to concentrate. The pixie dust will kick in, and as you cannot go through the day without touching stuff, it will have the effect of scratching on your hands, and you will most likely develop painful boils on your hands, which would make potion brewing difficult. Add some muscle cramps to it that would need massaging, which would cause more boils, and you will have a fun day.”

“Ok I vote we make the antidote today” Ron piqued up.

“You will have to do it without me” Hermione commented as she grabbed a fresh sheet of parchment to write out detailed, very detailed instructions. “I have detention after dinner. And you need a place to do the brewing.”

“The room of requirement would do” Harry offered.

“Yes, it probably would. Whomever gets there first, ask for a room where you can brew safely and help Neville do his own brewing safely” she added with a worried look. His friend would probably do much better without professor Snape breathing down his neck, but likely not by much.

When she was ready with the instructions, she grabbed a few more pieces of parchment and used the copying spell to create a few more recipes.

“Here” she handed most of them to Harry, keeping two. She intended one for herself, she wanted to go over the method when she had the time to understand the reasoning of the potions master. “I will give the other to one of the Slytherins, they need to know about this too.”

Harry pulled a face. “Why, Hermione? You know they would never warn you.” She shot him a dirty look.

“First of all, because you are a head boy, and responsible for all students, even Slytherins. Second, because that is the decent thing to do. And third, because even if we do not like each other no one deserves the effects of this potion.”

“But… they are Slytherins” Ron said confused. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

“They are fellow students, not your enemies, Ron. And being Slytherin does not mean they are automatically evil either! It means most of them are motivated, have great leadership skills, are good strategists, are good at networking and value knowledge.”

“That sounds like Crab and Goyle all right” Ron said and Harry sniggered.

“They are also individuals and should be treated as such. Gryffindor’s are not the same either. I am terrified of flying, Neville is scared to death from Professor Snape. Also, there is Peter Pettigrew, who betrayed Harry’s parents and the Salem witch trials were put on the map by a Gryffindor witch running from the law here and terrorising muggles in the states. While Merlin, whose balls you regularly reference, was a Slytherin. Pansy and Theodore may not have been nice to us, but they have done nothing to deserve the pain this goop would cause.”

“They would love to watch us in that pain, they would never even think of sharing the antidote.” Harry folded his arms.

“And why would they? We are supposed be the good guys here, we are supposed to be responsible and you are seriously considering harming them. I thought after you talked to Kreacher you would understand that if someone is being treated like garbage all the time they will likely pick the other side regardless of political views. I wonder how many Slytherins have been pushed over to start using dark magic just because everyone expected them to and treated them like dirt.” She slammed her books shut, stuffing her things back into her schoolbag angrily. “And do I need to remind you that it was a Slytherin who just gave us the recipe too? If professor Snape had not helped, I would not have figured out the antidote on my own.” She did not have to add that the rest would not have had a chance to even identify the ingredients.

“That is different, he is a teacher, he is responsible for us” Harry countered.

“This potion may be nasty, but the effects would have faded in a week or so without permanent harm. He did not have to give us the answers. And you are a head boy, Harry, and responsible for every other student” Hermione retorted. “Also, did you forget that this was a third year in a row that the Sorting Hat urged us to have unity instead of division? We need more ally’s, not make more enemies” she fumed, turning her back on her friends and stormed out of the classroom. She did not see the confused looks they exchanged behind her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so professor Zhuang is finally properly introduced, and I am curious to know what you all think of her :)


	14. Questions, answers, doubts and promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks for the reviews for:
> 
> buttons1721  
> cancaleblue  
> Grimmy_hild  
> madrugada_libre  
> always1507  
> Madameslytherin  
> labrys71  
> Hanako  
> Gina
> 
> And everyone who left me kudos. Feedback makes a writer happy :)

In the end Hermione gave the potions recipe to Pansy Parkinson. She was the Slytherin prefect their year, and she was also affected by the poison. She was reluctant to accept it at first. She either thought it was beneath her to accept help from a muggleborn, or she was worried about what other Slytherins would think and say that she did. Hermione reassured her that the antidote recipe came from professor Snape, which seemed to have done the trick.

She ate her dinner in relative silence. Her friends were making plans for the brewing, inviting Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who needed the potion. She would not be joining them to her relief. She loved her friends, but she did not want to take on the role of the instructor, try to keep everyone safe and help at the crucial moment. When she was younger she kept imagining how she would give lessons if she were a teacher. She had to realise that teaching was not really her thing. She did not mind helping her friends, but she would not want to do it over and over, the responsibility of the safety and advancement of others constantly weighing on her shoulders. She preferred learning herself or experimenting.

She finished her shepherd pie in piece, occasionally glancing at the high table. There was no point in arriving at detention before professor Snape would be there. She watched as he ate his meal, occasionally saying a few words to professor McGonagall on his right. The dinner reminded her of their two truth and a lie game, and she remembered that it was not his favourite food, though he had not said that he disliked it either. She waited a few more minutes after he rose from his seat before she followed him back to the dungeons. She knocked on his study door and waited to be admitted before entering.

“Good evening, sir” she greeted him. He was sitting behind his desk again, and endless supply of essays piled in front of him.

“Ah, Miss Granger” he placed his quill back in the inkpot. His eyes travelled over her from her feet to the top of her head, as if he was looking for something. She shifted under his gaze uncomfortably. “Will you be needing the antidote too?” he asked finally. He was looking for rashes on her skin, she realised. It made a warm feeling spread in her chest, even if his concern was purely from a brewing perspective.

“No, sir. Malfoy and I could avoid getting smeared with the goo.”

“Very well. In that case we should proceed with the brewing.” He stood and waited for her to place her bag on the floor, pulling her dunderhead-proof robes from the hidden pocket. She found comfort in the weight of the heavy fabric settling around her shoulders. He motioned her to follow him into his private lab.

There were the two potions shimmering as they left them. The _Essence of void_ has turned the right shade of crimson to be decanted, while _Prison of magic_ was bubbling happily as it should. One of the shelves was now filled with numerous jars of pickled winged toads.

“We will start with the decantation” he instructed. Hermione paid close attention when he explained how he wanted her to handle the cauldron and pour the mixture into a glass one, while he would be casting certain separation spells on the brew. They placed the glass container into an icy bath, and proceeded with adding more ingredients in tandem brewing. The work was fascinating, and she enjoyed watching a true master in action. Their movements were well-coordinated, and they needed little communication to synchronise their efforts. When they were done with the potion for the day, she stretched with a delighted sigh.

“What is your favourite cookie, sir?” she asked. He looked up from his notes with an arched eyebrow.

“I fail to see how that is any of your business, Miss Granger.”

“I just intended to order us some refreshments, professor” she explained. “I realise that this project puts a lot of extra pressure on you, sir. I wanted to order something that you would like. I know it will not make up for the time lost, but it would be… something, I guess. I promise not to spread the information” she added hastily.

“Very well” he said straightening up, folding his arms over his chest. “I will answer your question if you answer one of mine first.”

“Yes, sir” she could not help grinning with excitement.

“You were not in need of the antidote, yet you were doing all the work this afternoon. Why?”

“My friends needed my help.” She answered simply.

“Ah, I am afraid you misunderstand the nature of my question. Let me elaborate. You worked for hours on a potion you do not need, even though you could have spent those hours doing something more useful to you. Homework, NEWT projects, that shielding charm, Merlin only knows, you have enough on your plate with these extracurricular activities. Yet you helped. Why do you allow them to drag you down and hold you back?” Her stomach dropped heavily. She wondered if he had realised just how personal this question was for her- he has proven to be extremely perceptive in the last months. Though that teaches her about bargaining with a Slytherin.

She licked her lips nervously, thinking over what and how much to share with him. Not everything, at any rate, it cut too deep. “It did not really occur to me not to help” she started. “I was the only one who took the trouble to collect a sample, and I knew the others did not have the skill to identify the poisons. So, it was kind of automatic, or the default, if you please, that I would help my friends when they are in need. Now, if I went back in time and I was given the option to carefully consider what to do, I would still do the same.”

“Why? Why not let them learn their own lessons?”

“There is a difference between letting them do their own homework and abandoning them to a task they are unable to complete. I know it looks like they were my friends only for my brains, but I also profit from their friendship, if not in the same scientific way.” She remembered her years at the muggle school, being alone, bullied, excluded, picked last for any activity, her help sometimes exchanged for scraps of acceptance. After a while she had learned the kids her own age were more of a source of hurt than potential friends, and while she grew older and learned a number of things she missed out on the lesson of how to make friends, how to connect with others. How to start a conversation with someone. She was full of insecurities, which she tried to hide under a false façade of confidence. Harry and Ron pointed out later it came across as bossy and overbearing, but all she wanted was to not be hurt. Harry and Ron dragged her out of her shell, and while she will never be a popular kid, she was a lot less socially awkward now. She was still not good at making friends, but she was not hopeless either, she would not scare others away with the first sentence. At least not by accident. She did not even want to imagine the life she would have had at Hogwarts had Quirrel not set that troll loose on the school. Being the lonely smart kid was a miserable existence.

But how much to tell him? Maybe the truth without too much of the personal pain. “A friendship with them allowed me to build social skills I never even realised I needed. They have a more outgoing nature, and sometimes push me out of my comfort zone, and I realise that I can do more than I thought, it allows me to enjoy experiences I never thought of trying. I help them with their shortcomings, and they help me with mine, while we accept each other for who we are. That is what friends do.” He listened carefully to her tapping his forefinger against his lips, a sign of concentration. She waited for his reaction, if he found the explanation to be satisfactory.

“I see.” Did he believe this was all of it? Did he pick up more than what she told him? She could not tell.

“If… if you find that answer satisfactory, sir, I would like to hear about your favourite cookie” she smiled at him.

“Well, a deal is a deal. I am partial to most sweets made with either chocolate or cinnamon, especially if it has both. My favourite pastry is a warm chocolate lava cake with a pinch of cinnamon in the dough, filled with either sea-salt caramel sauce or chocolate with black cherry jam and rum, with a scoop of soft, smooth Italian valine ice-cream on top.” Hermione’s mouth started to water.

“That sounds absolutely exquisite, sir” she admitted, swallowing hard. The corners of his lips tugged up into a nearly-smile. They walked back into his study to get a coffee break. She made a mental note to talk to Dobby later about lava cakes, they did not have enough time to wait for one to be baked at the moment, but if he had a chance to prepare for their next brewing session, they would indulge.

Hermione asked Dobby for their usual coffee and cookies, and settled into the chair across from the potions professor. Like last time, she waited until the house elf was gone before turning the tray around, and positioning the sweetened coffee in front of Severus Snape. While doing so, her eyes fell on a parchment on his desk. It contained a list of healing potions and quantities.

“Sir, please forgive me for intruding, but is this a list of potions needed for the Hospital Wing?” she asked.

“Not that it is any of your business, Miss Granger, but yes it is” he answered tartly.

She has not forgotten the comment of professor McGonagall that he was overloaded with work. She felt a pang of guilt, putting even more duties on his plate. “I could help with preparing them, sir.” She offered.

“Miss Granger, I have been delivering the potions for Madam Pomfrey alone for nearly two decades. I fail to see why this year should be any different.” His face was a harsh mask.

“I am sorry, sir. I did not mean to imply anything, but this project” she indicated at his private lab “is a lot of extra work and responsibility. I would be more than happy to lighten your usual workload.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“These potions are part of the war effort, and they need to be brewed by an expert. The extra work is just part of being involved.” His tone sounded like a shrug, not that he would actually do something that inelegant.

“I feel that the workload of the war effort is very unevenly distributed among those that are fighting, sir. I can’t even start to imagine the mental and physical cost of the spying you do for us, it is unfair to put even more on your shoulders, sir.” He seemed tired as he sipped his sweet coffee.

“Life isn’t fair, Miss Granger and for the wizarding world it doesn’t matter if I get a bit less sleep. What matters is that win this war.”

“But it matters to me, sir. I am more than capable of handling most of the brews on this list, as I have demonstrated over the summer. Let me help you. Please.” He studied her face from behind a carefully neutral mask for a long time. Hermione thought he would not answer her when he said “Fine” with a deep sigh. She wasn’t sure what made him relent eventually. Was it the please? Was it his own interest? Did she chip away his resolution? Did he see something in her determined expression? His face remained carefully blank as they discussed the shield charm she was learning and ate the delicious baked goods Dobby supplied them with.

After they were finished with the _Prison of magic_ for the day, she stayed and prepared two of the potions for the Hospital Wing. The list was long, and gave her enough to do for a while, but she hoped she would be able to chip away chunks from his overload of work. If they could schedule one of her detentions to be in the weekend she would be able to stay longer and do somewhat more.

It was already past midnight when she dragged herself back to the Gryffindor common room. She expected to find it empty, the other students back in their beds, sleeping soundly. What she did not expect was finding Harry sitting in front of the fire, dripping wet, and emptying what looked like sludge from his shoes.

“Hermione” he gave her a tired smiled. “What were you doing outside this late?”

“I have detention with Professor Snape three days a week” she explained sitting down next to him. She cast a _Muffliato_ around them, so no one would be able to eventually overhear their conversation. “I could ask you the same thing, though.”

“And he kept you this long? The greasy git has it out for you.” She frowned at him.

“That is professor Snape, Harry. I was restocking potions for the Hospital Wing. He obviously needs the help, even if he is too proud to admit it. Have you seen him close by recently? Judging by the dark circles under his eyes he does not get much sleep either. Were you out with professor Dumbledore?”

“Yeah, he made a tracking charm, and we found one of Ravenclaw’s earrings” he did not seem happy about the accomplishment. Hermione drew her wand, and cast a _Scourgify_ on his shoes, before she started to dry his clothes and hair. He shivered. “I will have to learn that spell” he grinned. Hermione wondered why professor Dumbledore has not cast it for him.

“You do not seem happy though. Is there something wrong with the earring?” The weak smile disappeared from his face.

“It is silly.”

“Still, tell me. Maybe I will think it isn’t.”

“I know we did the right thing” Harry explained looking Hermione in the eye. “When we found the earring, we had two choices: to talk to the owners or just take it. We could not allow Voldemort to have it. If we ask them… what if they are his supporters? What if they just don’t want to give it up because it is valuable? Voldemort won’t ask nicely, he will go in, wand blazing, and kill them all. What if they give it to us, and it makes Tom so angry he comes and murders the all the same? So we just took it. The owners have plausible deniability if he comes to collect it, they are protected as much as they can be. It was the logical thing to do” he said taking his glasses off. “So why do I feel so rotten about it?” He buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes. Hermione was a bit surprised at his reaction. Lately he was trusting so blindly in the headmaster, he never had any critique to what he was asking him to do. She would need to tread here carefully.

“That is not silly at all. Actually, that is good.” He looked at her with unfocused eyes. “Yes, you and professor Dumbledore are doing the right thing, and you can always give the earring back after the war. But it belongs to someone else, and you have no right to take it. Justifying your actions can be a slippery rope. Next time it will be easier, the third time you might not even think of returning it. What next, Kidnapping people? Arson? Killing someone? Not immediately, of course, but little by little. As long as you feel rotten about stealing something, even with a very good reason, you are good. Keep that so. Keep thinking, truly thinking over what you do and what you are asked to do.” She smiled at him, patting his shoulder.

“Thank you, Hermione” he said with a shuddering smile, placing his glasses on his nose again. “That… puts things into perspective. By the way, I made the professor promise he would let me take the earring back to the owners after the war is over. With an apology.” He blushed slightly at his attempt to redeem himself. Hermione decided to push her luck just a bit.

“I wonder if this is how professor Snape must feel all the time.”

“What do you mean?” he asked surprised.

“He is the spy for the order, Harry. He regularly has to go to death eater meetings and revels and what not. What do you think he has to do to maintain his cover?” He blanched at what she was suggesting. “They aren’t making friendship bracelets.”

“I always imagined him and Lucius Malfoy were plating each other’s hair” he interjected with dry humour, but his smile did not quite reach his eyes.

“Like Malfoy would ever let anyone else touch his hair” Hermione snorted. “But on a serious note, Professor Snape would be lucky to be tasked with something as innocent as stealing an earring. I sometimes wonder how much his sleepless nights are a product of an overload of work or an overload of a consciousness.”

“Bloody hell. I never thought of that” he said his eyes staring off in the distance, probably imagining the horrors of death eater gatherings. “And he has been doing that for years. No wonder he is always so cranky.” Hermione was certain the potions master would not appreciate being described as cranky.

“He keeps doing what the headmaster asks him to do, he does what he has to. But…”

“But that is horrifying to ask of anyone. I would have probably gone mental, doing that.” She could only hope that Severus Snape had a better coping mechanism. “I guess now I start to understand why you keep defending him even after the way he attacked you in class. I guess, I should try to be nicer to him. About him. Though he really makes it difficult for people to not dislike him.” He added.

“I think most students would find it terrifying if he suddenly showed kindness” she chuckled. Harry shuddered.

“Thank you, Hermione. You really gave me some things to think about.” After a little pause he asked. “Would you teach me that drying spell tomorrow? I have a free period.”

“I already made some plans for those hours, but I am happy to help you after lessons” she beamed. He had not asked to be tutored in anything since the Triwizard Tournament.

“I Guess I see you tomorrow then. Or rather, later today. Good night, Hermione.”

“Good night, Harry.” She cancelled the _Muffliato_ before she went upstairs to her own bed. The red sheets seemed more inviting than ever.

\---

In her fourth year, when she started SPEW, her greatest mistake was that she did not do her research. She did not understand what house elves wanted, needed and why they behaved the way they did. This time, she was prepared. This time she had spent hours talking to several Hogwarts house elves, trying to understand what moved and motivated them. It was barely six in the morning when she put on her uniform, her head girl badge, and sneaked into one of the unused classrooms on the second floor. If anyone would catch her, she would claim she was doing her morning rounds.

She closed the door behind her, and cast a _Muffliato_ spell, before calling out for Dobby. The little house elf appeared with a soft pop.

“What can Dobby do for Miss Harry Potter’s friend?” he asked with a bow.

“Dobby, can you please bring Winky to me?” she asked. His ears drooped, and he looked around a bit scared.

“Dobby does not think that is a good idea, Miss. Winky is not well.”

“I think I can help her” she explained. “I think I can get her to stop drinking butterbeer.” Dobby looked at her carefully hopeful. “I promise I will not think worse of the other elves for whatever Winky does or says.” That seemed to convince him.

“Dobby will be right back.” With a pop, he disappeared. It only took a minute or so before he suddenly reappeared, holding the hand of Winky. The female elf looked absolutely dreadful. Her little clothes were black with grime, and it was clear she never took the trouble to wash them. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was already clutching a bottle of unopened butterbeer.

“Thank you, Dobby, you may go. I will call you when we are done” she smiled at him encouragingly. The elf looked uncertain, but disappeared with a nod.

Hermione kneeled next to Winky, and took the bottle out of her hand. The elf tried to hold onto it, she had to twist it out of her arm. Her heart was breaking for the little creature.

“No, that is Winky’s butterbeer” she protested, looking daggers at her.

“Winky, what if I told you I have something much better for you than butterbeer?” she asked.

“Winky is a disgraced elf. Winky brought shame on her masters, and now she has nothing. Winky does not need anything but butterbeer.”

“Oh? Not even a magical family to serve?” The little elf shuddered as if she was shocked by electricity.

“No one would want Winky. Winky is a disgraced elf” she whispered wishfully.

“Well, the noble house of Granger is look to start their own lines of house elves, and they are interested in your services, if you are willing to be bound to them.”

“Miss isn’t’ making fun of Winky. Miss would get Winky a magical family to serve” she sounded like she could not believe what she was hearing.

“Yes, Winky. Do you want to serve again? Do you want to keep the secrets of house Granger, do you want to clean their quarters and serve them tea?”

“Yes, Winky wants to serve. Winky wants to serve a family, more than anything. If Winky had a family, Winky would not need butterbeer anymore.” Hermione rolled up her sleeve on her left arm, and extended it towards the elf. She steeled herself not to flinch when she laid her tiny forearm against hers. The skin felt clammy and sticky with some kind of substance. She tapped her wand to their arms.

“Do you, Winky, free house elf, swear your service to house Granger?” she asked.

“Winky does” the elf replied. A lavender-coloured thread of magic appeared around their hands, hovering just above their skin.

“Do you, Winky, free house elf promise to keep the secrets of house Granger?” she asked.

“Winky promises.” A second line appeared, the glow casting distorted shadows on their faces.

“Do you, Winky, free house elf, wow to honour the house Granger, follow the orders given by any family member, promise to give your children to their service till the day you or they die?”

“Winky wows in the name of herself and her future children to be tied to the noble house of Granger, to be their house elf bound by blood with everything that entails, till the day they die” a final soft purple thread appeared, the three of them turning, knotting, twisting around until they formed what looked like a complex Celtic knot when they suddenly tightened, sinking through their skin. It was a strange feeling, tingling and bubbling, like fizzy sugar on your tong, but under her skin. With each heartbeat she felt the magic to be carried further by her blood, slowly up her arm, down her chest, and spreading through all her limbs. When it reached the top of her head and the sole of her feet, the feeling suddenly disappeared. “Winky is honoured to serve the noble house of Granger” the elf said solemnly.

Hermione blinked, as if coming out of a haze, and slowly let go of the arm of the little creature. She was looking up at her expectantly.

“Well. Thank you Winky. As your master, I am going to forbid you from drinking butterbeer again.”

“Winky will honour Master’s wishes.”

“I also want you to keep it a secret that now you are not a free elf anymore. I do not know if you heard about it, but there is a war going on in the wizarding world. Keeping it a secret that I have a house elf could make the difference between life or death.” The elf’s eyes widened with the magnitude of the secret.

“Winky will rather iron her feet dan betray the house of Granger.”

“It also means you cannot call me Master. You will call me Miss Hermione, or young Miss.”

“Yes, Miss Hermione.” She was looking at her expectantly, when she remembered. Clothes. They were very important to house elves.

“Now, Winky, I want you to get rid of these clothes you are wearing, they are disgusting, and a disgrace to my house. I want you to clean up yourself, and use a tea-towel with the Hogwarts crest to wear like the rest of the elves in the kitchen. If you serve me well during the war, I will provide you with one that has my house crest embroidered on it.” Winky’s bloodshot eyes were sparkling with anticipation.

“I want you to keep your tea towel clean. If anyone notices the difference, I want you to tell them you want to serve.”

“Yes, Miss Hermione. Winky is happy to serve.”

“After you cleaned up, I want you to rest. In about seven hours I will call on you again to give you some tasks, and I want you well-rested and the butterbeer out of your system. You may go now.” The little creature gave her a deep bow, and disappeared with a pop.

Hermione could not believe she just got herself a house elf.

In her free period that would have been muggle studies, she snuck back into the empty classroom and warded it before calling for Winky again. She appeared with a soft popping noise. Just as she demanded, she was wearing a Hogwarts tea towel and she seemed better rested and clean. Her eyes were still somewhat bloodshot, but she had been in a terrible state for three years. The marks of that timewill not disappear without a trace.

“Miss Hermione called” she bowed, her voice filled with cheerful expectation.

“Yes” she said pulling a paper notebook and a muggle pen from her schoolbag. “Winky, do you know how to read and write?”

“Winky knows, how else could she sort the post for her Masters?” she asked nearly indignantly.

“Well, that is good. Starting with today, I want you to write down in this diary what made you the happiest during the day. What you enjoyed doing the most. Was it eating something you liked? Having a conversation with someone or another elf? Doing a particular chore? It could be anything that made you happy. I want you to do this honestly.” She handed her the booklet and pen. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, Miss Hermione.”

“At the end of each day I also want you to think about what happened to you, and write down what you liked the least. An order, a place to go, anything. I promise I will not be angry about whatever it is, I need you to be honest.”

“Yes, Miss Hermione, Winky will do her best.”

“Very good. Keep the diary hidden from everyone else. I also forbid you from punishing yourself without my expressed, explicit approval. No ears ironed, no doors slammed on your fingers, no punishments. If you really feel that you need punishment badly, I want you to wait until I am alone, and talk to me about it. This is very important, do you understand?”

“Yes, Miss Hermione. Winky will ask for permission before punishing herself.” She hoped to avoid that entirely.

“Good, now I have an important task for you. I want you to help the other Hogwarts house elves. Do what they are doing, but always make sure you do not tire yourself out, that you have spare energy and magic left to help when I call you.”

“Winky will make sure she can always serve the noble house of Granger” she bowed.

“If someone gives you an order that is expected from any Hogwarts house elves, like bringing food, cleaning, getting new bedsheet, washing clothes, I want you to follow those orders, so it would seem like you were one of the school elves.”

“Yes, Miss Hermione.”

“But if someone asks you something unusual, like keep a secret, bring someone in our out of the castle, if someone tells you to do something that goes against my orders, I want you to report it to me first.”

“Winky will do so.”

“I can’t express how important it is that no one realises that you are tied to our house, especially anyone in Slytherin or the headmaster. If you feel that someone might suspect, I want you to tell me, so we can make a plan.”

“Winky will be careful, Miss Hermione.”

Inspired by a sudden idea, Hermione added. “If you can, I want you to volunteer to work in the office and private quarters of the headmaster. I want you to listen in to any conversations he might have that is not a direct concern of the school, but do it discreetly. It is better that you can listen less and get less intel than being suspected or discovered. Can you do that?” She hoped she would learn what professor Dumbledore was trying to keep from Harry.

“Winky will try. Winky was hired by the headmaster, elves would understand if Winky wanted to serve headmaster.”

“Good, but be very careful and don’t get caught. Now, there is one last thing I wanted to discuss. Do you know how to make a chocolate lava cake with caramel sea salt filling and vanilla ice-cream?”


	15. Learning different lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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The weekend flew by way too fast for Hermione. She spent long hours in the dungeon working on their secret projects and also making a great headway with the infirmary potions. While the potions master would most likely never admit it out loud she has probably saved him more than a long nights work, and she intended to keep up with it. With her patrolling duties and homework to finish she barely had time to practice her new shield, or at least not as much as she would have liked. She wanted to get better at it and fast as she did not trust what professor Zhuang had in store for them.

She did dedicate more than one of her free periods to de counter curses they discussed in the first class, hoping to be as prepared as she could be, though so far the professor seemed to be two or three steps ahead. When their next lesson arrived she entered the classroom apprehensively, quickly looking up to see if there was a potion hovering over their heads. The room looked empty and innocent, but she wasn’t convinced.

She took her usual seat between her friends, but held her wand at the ready, expecting a surprise attack. She was not the only one acting so jumpy. Professor Zhuang was waiting for them standing next to her desk, her eyes scanning students apparently looking for something. If Hermione had to make a guess she was checking for signs of rashes.

“Good morning, class. I am glad to see you are all well and none of you seem to be suffering from any ill effects from last week” she said once the noise of the students quieted. “I hope it also taught you a lesson in the importance in collaboration, especially as none of you seemed to have taken the time to take the sample potions with you. Now, today we will be focusing on the counter spells we have discussed the previous lesson. This will be a practical demonstration, so please stand.” With a cacophony of scraping chairs and moving furniture they all clambered to their feet. When the professor lifted her wand Hermione was ready to counter, but their teacher merely moved the furniture out of the way storing it and along the walls. “The point of today’s exercise is to allow you to practice casting the counter course in circumstances that are less than optimal. I am going to put a jinx on you, one by one, and you will be expected to use the correct counter charm. Get your wands ready.” She calmly stepped up to Dean Thomas, and she cast a _Tarantallegra_ on him. His feet started doing a quick jig on their own, and he could not control the movement of his hands well enough to make the required wand movement to cast the counter-curse. She cast _Titillando_ on Seamus, who collapsed onto the floor laughing. She targeted Hannah with _Sternius_ , a sneezing hex that made her sneeze non-stop, her eyes watering with tears. Neville was hit by a babbling curse. Next, the professor stopped in front of Harry, and used _Arresto momentum_ on him, which made his movements too sluggish to be able to direct his wand well. She stepped up in front of Hermione.

“Actually, professor” she said lifting her own wand. “I would much prefer if one of my friends could cast the required jinx.”

“And why is that?” she asked her patiently. Hermione blushed.

“I trust them more, professor. I would be sure they would cast something ultimately harmless.” She responded.

“So, you do not trust me” her professor stated. She did not want to answer, but after a few seconds of just staring at each other, it became apparent that the teacher expected a response, thus she reddened and muttered “No, professor, I don’t.”

“Good. That is rather wise, you are starting to think” Hermione was caught off-guard by her reply. “Nonetheless” she flicked her wand wordlessly, and Hermione was unprepared to dodge or block in time. The spell hit her, and she felt _Petrificus totalus_ taking her over. She was unable to move or speak. How could she break a spell like that? “… you still have a lot to improve.” She walked on to the next student, leaving her staring at an empty spot on the wall. To her surprise, she heard Ron cast _Finite Incantatem_ at her, and she could suddenly move again.

“And just what were you thinking, Mr Weasley?” professor Zhuang asked twirling her wand between her fingers.

“Well, you never said we could not help each other, professor” he countered. “And I thought this was a good way to make use of collaboration you mentioned” he added, looking uncertain.

“Finally someone using their heads” she said. “Five points to Gryffindor, Mr Weasley. The rest of you children should start to think critically, and outside of the box. Just how moronic do you need to be to allow someone you barely know to cast a jinx on you?” Her tone was conversational, as if she was discussing the weather, lacking bite. “Someone who tried to poison you a week ago, none the less. You may form pairs and practice on each other. Choose someone you trust.”

Hermione turned towards Harry, and cast the counter spell. Her friend rolled his shoulders with a contended smile.

“Thanks, Hermione, I needed that. I can't believe I actually let professor Zhuang cast a curse on me.” He blushed.

“Don't beat yourself up over it. She is very different from any other teacher we had.”

“Maybe, but this is exactly the kind of thing I am supposed to be good at.”

They kept practising, taking turns. Hermione followed professor Zhuang from the corner of her eye, worried what their next surprise might be. She was fairly certain they were not out of the woods just yet. While she was trying to cast a rather complex counter-curse nonverbally she saw their teacher to stop behind Neville, with her wand drawn. Her friend probably did not notice it, and even if he did, he wouldn't have been able to protect himself. He was struggling with a nasty bout of jelly-arm hex. Hermione lifted her wand in preparation, but professor Zhuang saw it, and looked at her with her head tilted a bit sideways before walking on. As stressful as the lesson was, she had to admit this was so far the most efficient and practical defence class they had. Mad-eye Moody kept reminding them of constant vigilance, this year the professor really kept them on their toes.

There was only twenty minutes left from their lesson when suddenly the furniture that stood immobile against the wall gained motion. Chairs and desks started moving towards the students, gashes resembling mouths peppered with jagged teeth of wood opening on their surface, and attack them. Hermione shrieked in surprise, and sent a combustion spell turning a chair that was about to bite Harry in the leg into dust. Harry was busy fending off a table that jumped him. Hermione tried to call up her shield, but it was not strong enough to withstand an onslaught of physical items. The classroom was suddenly filled with sounds of screams and shrieks. To her dismay she saw that the chair she disintegrated started to reassemble itself. She cast another spell to push the aggressive furniture away, but it did not take long before they were upon them again. She kept casting spell after spell, destroying, freezing, pushing away. Nothing seemed to have long term effect. Harry cast a spell next to her that lit up the room with intense yellow light and fractured one of the tables into splinters. She ducked, but one of the flyaway sharp pieces of wood as hit her over her forehead, leaving a shallow cut. She kept working, defending, casting. Somehow in the commotion people started moving towards each other, their backs to friends and facing the malevolent tables together. Somehow she ended up with her back against Draco, Harry at her side.

The cacophony of fighting was broken by an ear-splitting scream, and she saw as a single, wooden chair leg has sunk its inch-long teeth into the thigh of Seamus. There was a patch of blood starting to spread over his uniform. Lucky for him, Hanna was by his side and stopped him from trying to wrench it free, at least the teeth stopped the outpouring of blood.

Seamus was not the only one injured. The left arm of Blaise Zabini was hanging at a strange angle, Neville was sporting a black eye and Ernie had a half-foot of wood sticking out of his shoulder. The longer they fought the clearer it became that they were outmatched and outnumbered, and while their attackers kept reassembling, more and more of her classmates became unable to fight. As she watched a chair attacked Lavender, the back and the seat clapping together like a mousetrap over her wand arm. She screamed. Harry seemed to be the only one who could hold his own against the attack, but with more and more of them out of commission that would not last forever either. Even worse, no matter what she cast nothing seemed to stop the... that's it! They had to stop the enchantment not the furniture. She cast a counter curse on the nearest desk that was trying to tackle Ron, and it stilled, toppling over. It stopped moving.

She put her wand against her throat and muttered _Sonorus_. “CAST COUNTERSPELLS!” her voice boomed over the room. She wanted to make sure everyone heard her discovery. Soon the air was filled with a cacophony of different counter-curses. Little by little the furniture stopped moving, and in a few minutes the room quieted down. There was dust swirling in the air, and the floor was covered with random pieces of wood and broken furniture. There were sniffles and stifled groans, more than on one of her classmates was trying to keep the sounds of pain from escaping their lips.

“That didn't go very well” professor Zhuang commented. She started to sweep her wand over the room, and the desks and chairs repaired themselves, moving back to their intended places, but fortunately they remained immobile. “It took you twelve minutes, seven serious injuries and innumerable scrapes and bruises before one of you remembered that you were in a class meant to practice counter-spells. At least you showed an improvement in cooperation. I will expect a two scroll essay from each of you detailing the effect of danger and pain on thought processes and reaction time. There are a few minutes left from the lesson, but you may go, you will need the extra time to get to the infirmary. Class dismissed.”

Hermione did not think there was anyone in the room who would not need help from Madam Pomfrey. She was lucky, she got away with some minor wounds and a dozen of splinters in her arm. She conjured a stretcher and insisted that Seamus lay on it. There was no way he would be able to navigate the numerous staircases to the hospital wing with his injured leg. Looking over her classmates she briefly wondered how much more potions there will be needed this year to keep the student body up and running. If professor Zhuang treated the other classes like this too, probably a lot more.

When they arrived to the infirmary it was nearly empty. Hermione waited for her turn patiently, but in the end she had to remove the splinters from her arm by herself, the matron was too busy helping those with more severe injuries, like Blaise and Lavender. After half an hour she just decided to use a touch of the dittany they brewed together with the potions master to treat her forehead and hoped to be in time to catch lunch. She did not think that a minor injury would have been a good enough excuse for professor Snape for her being late for potions.

\---

Hermione was doing her last patrol round, when she turned a corner on the fifth floor and saw that the corridor wasn’t deserted. A blond figure was standing in front of the window, looking over the grounds, but she doubted they could see anything from the outside, it was already dark, and with the candles and torches lighting the room they would only see themselves mirrored in the glass. She was ready to draw her wand if needed, walking closer to the person.

At the sound of her footsteps they raised a head to look at her. It was Malfoy. He was trying to look calm, his expression reminded her of the times when the potions master arranged his features into a carefully neutral mask, but the younger boy wasn’t quite there with control yet. His eyes kept shifting, taking in the scene, occasionally looking over his shoulder as if he expected to be ambushed any second.

“Draco? What are you doing here?”

“Patrol, Granger” he sneered. “What do you want? Don’t you know it would be unhealthy to be seen fraternising with me?” Hermione snorted. Did he take her for a fool? Malfoy’s patrol route was in the dungeons, if he came to this floor, he wanted to run into her.

“I don’t think you are in any danger of being accused of liking me” she answered, stepping closer. She suppressed the urge to fold her arms, she needed to be able to draw quickly. “Our past interactions have been less than friendly.” From this close she could he just how bad he looked, his eyes bloodshot, his cheeks hollowing out like he did not eat enough, the dark circles under his eyes were telling a tale of many sleepless nights. The once proud and elegant boy looked like he came from the middle of the war.

“What are you staring at?” he demanded.

“Sorry, just lost in thought” she said rubbing her forehead with her left hand. There was no way of putting how badly he looked into words without being offensive. She had no reason to trust or like Draco, but seeing him the way he was made something dangerously dark and angry rise inside her. He was just a schoolboy, a year younger than herself, two if you count the time turner year. She did not know what happened to him to put that look on his face, but he seemed like he had been to the deepest corners of hell, and he left parts of himself behind before returning. He used to be a an elitist little idiot who though he was better than others, but he did not deserve this.

“You look somewhat… tired. Draco, if you need help to… get out of your patrols, to… get more sleep, you can always just ask” she said. Watching the emotions flicker across his face she was certain he understood she wasn’t only talking about prefect duties.

“What could you possibly do to help?” he sneered.

“I won’t pretend to have all the answers, but I’m willing to help if you need it. I could figure something out, so far, I always did, but I would need to know why the prefect duties are so difficult for you and what you would need.”

“Why?” he asked with his eyes shifting up and down the corridor. “Why would you offer to help out a Slytherin? I do not need or want your pity.”

“It is pretty obvious you haven’t been getting enough sleep. I would guess you have way too much on your plate, and I guess removing some of your… duties might help. And I am offering because that is the right thing to do. I know, that’s disgustingly Gryffindor of me.”

“Indeed” he sneered in a weak imitation of professor Snape.

“I don’t know what your duties did to you” she said her voice softening. “I only see the results. And Malfoy, make no mistake, you were always horrible to us and I don’t even like you. But you didn’t deserve this.”

“Fuck you, Granger.”

“In your dreams only, Malfoy. My offer stand, if you need help with your patrols” she turned her back on him and walked away to continue her rounds, trusting that Malfoy would not attack her. Also, trusting that Winky would come to her aid if he did. She could understand Draco’s reaction. He was through hell and didn’t trust anyone, but she left her offer open, she let him know he could ask for help, hopefully in a subtle enough way that the conversation seemed innocent enough from the outside, even though she was no Slytherin. Malfoy must have reached out to her on purpose, but she could not help him unless he let her.

\---

On a sunny Saturday of the second weekend of the schoolyear Hermione was sitting in the common room, trying to concentrate on the non-verbal counter curses, but it was a nearly impossible task. First, most of the boys were busy with their consent training homework, and they took it very seriously. Professor Zhuang has promised them memorably painful consequences if their failed, and while most of them only had one or two lessons with her, they took that threat very seriously. She thought that was actually very smart of them.

“So, there is a witch at this party” Ron red from his scroll, his face screwed up in concentration. She is obviously too tipsy to stand unassisted, and she wants to kiss.”

“Don’t do it” Neville said with alarm in his voice.

“Yeah, that was my take on it too. But question B. What if she is only tipsy enough that she keeps giggling?”

“Tough one” Harry said. “It is not like there is a very clear line between sober enough and already too tipsy, it’s like a scale. Eh… I would put down tell her you like her, and if she still wants to kiss tomorrow when she is sober you are happy to oblige.”

“That sounds like a safe solution” Ron said crossing his legs.

“If they are just a little bit tipsy, I would probably still go for the kiss” Seamus said scratching his chin. “But I am not stupid enough to write that down.”

“Ever since she demonstrated that bollock-busting spell, I really just want to keep all females at arm’s length till I am out of school” Dean commented.

“I think it is not fair that only boys have to do the training” Neville interjected. “We also have bodily autonomy, and girls should not harass us either.”

“I am not going to say no if a girl wants to climb in my lap” Ron grinned, leaning back in his chair. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

“Even if it is Millicent Bulstrode?” she asked

“Ewe, you have a point” he admitted with a grimace.

“Besides” Harry added. “That scene we interrupted? That girl, what was her name again, Hermione?”

“Vicky.”

“Yes, Vicky did not understand why it was wrong what Logan was trying to pull. She thought she was in trouble too. I guess girls should be taught too that they can say no, that they should, you know, give clear signs what they want, and recognise a problem early enough and put an end to it.”

“That is a fair point” Ron admitted. “But the schoolyear is still long, I am pretty sure she will have more than ample opportunity to land everyone else in detention too, especially if she catches someone snogging in the hallways.” There was a chorus of murmured agreements.

“Ok, what about this one” Dean asked. “You are visiting distant family you have not seen in years. One of the children is reluctant to give their cousin, you, a hug, even though the parents are trying to encourage it. The…”

“Dude that is so clear” Seamus interjected. “Bodily autonomy and consent does not have an age limit” he added in a high-pitched voice, obviously trying to mimic their teacher. Judging by the chorus of agreements that was a sentence often repeated in class.

“It is not over” he protested. “You explain why you are ok with just a high five instead, but the other child wants to hug you. Now the parents are angry at you because they feel you are interfering with the way they raise their kids, and keep the second child from hugging you who seems upset. This makes the first child also feel ashamed. What do you do?” The boys exchanged a desperate look. After a few minutes of heavy silence Ron spoke up, his eyes scanning the room as if he hoped to find a clue.

“I do not think whacking the parents over the head with a heavy item is one of the acceptable options?”

“I do not think it would help” remarked Neville.

“No, but it may feel satisfying” sniggered Seamus.

“I know what I will do” Ron announced. There was a chorus demanding to know his answer. “It is great sunny weather outside, I think I will go visit Hagrid than grab a broom to play some quidditch. There was a chorus of cheers, and Hermione thought they were not afraid enough of the defence professor. Yet. Harry threw down his quill too, and slammed one of the books on the table shut.

“I am going too. Hermione, are you coming?” She glanced at the pile of homework in front of her, and sighed. She will not get any studying done with noise like this anyway, and they really should see their friend.

“All right” she said stuffing her books and scrolls into her bag. They climbed out through the portrait hole, and descended the many stairs to the entrance hall. The great doors opened onto a warm, sunny afternoon of early autumn, soft, green grass covering the rolling grounds. The trees of the dark forest still looked velvety green in the distance. Hermione felt the urge to kick off her shoes and feel the grass blades trickling her feet, but decided against it. There were all kinds of creatures lurking and living nearby, and while not all were dangerous they could cause painful wounds if someone accidently stepped on them. She shuddered at the thought of a bowtruckle sinking their sharp digit in the skin of her feet.

When they arrived to the little house they found Hagrid outside, working in the pumpkin patch. He was wearing a checked shirt that would have made a great tent for anyone else, his sleeves rolled up. There was a wicker basket next to him, half-full of different kinds of weeds, and a smaller burlap sack, its contents not visible from where they were standing. To her surprise Luna was sitting on the fence dangling her legs. She was not wearing her uniform, she had on a pale blue dress with huge sunflowers on it, knee-high, striped socks in peach and mint and black boots. She was Sporting a Ravenclaw-blue cowboy hat trimmed with bronze coloured thread and a necklace what seemed to have been made of pocket watch cogwheels, it was a rather understated ensemble for her.

“Hi Luna, hey Hagrid” Harry grinned at the half-giant happily. Hermione and Ron greeted their friends too, leaning against the fence of the patch.

“Oi, Harry, good to see ye tykes back” Hagrid straightened from his work. “Ye’ found ye’ way to my house?”

“Sorry that we could not come any sooner” Ron protested. “We got detention already, and _we_ didn’t even do anything” he pouted.

“Well, you are a student, you are supposed to do your homework. If you didn’t do anything it is not so surprising if you got detention” Luna said in a singsong voice. Harry and Ron stared at her dumbfounded.

“It isn’t like that” Ron said shaking his head, and proceeded to explain what happened.

“That sounds useful to me” Luna said dangling her feet. Harry and Ron exchanged a dark look.

“I wouldn’t want to run into that professor at night” Hagrid commented. Hermione would not want to run into her in daylight either. “There is something that ain’t right about ‘er.”

“She is just far away” Luna announced in a dreamy voice. Ron blinked at her confused. None of them really understood what she meant by that. “But I did like her classes, I think it felt like as if someone crossed the defence lessons from professor Snape and the DA training from Harry.”

“By the way, what are you two doing out here?” Hermione asked.

“I am trying to catch murgblobs” she answered, lifting an empty jar. “They like to hide in a pumpkin patch.”

“I need to pull the weed from the patch, I saw a number of pumpkin fairies dancing in the moonlight over them. You ain’t want them to lay eggs on the leaves. They will eat the pumpkins when hatched, and there won’t be nothing left for the Halloween feast.”

“I did not know pumpkin fairies existed” Hermione admitted.

“’Course they exist, nasty little buggers they are. Bite ye’ finger if you are not careful” Hagrid grumbled.

“But are the pumpkins all right?” Ron sounded concerned. He probably did not want to miss out on the pumpkin pie.

“’Course they are all right. Professor Snape made some repellent potion, I will sprinkle it on them, but first, the weed needs to be gone.”

“That is mighty nice of him” Ron said sarcastically.

“Yes, it is” Luna agreed apparently missing out on the tone.

“Maybe he just likes pumpkin pie too” Harry grinned.

“No, that just, doesn’t… I can’t even imagine Snape eating pumpkin pie” Ron insisted. “He is like, all black and gloom and plain and angular. And pumpkin pie is sweet and smooth and spicy and warm and happy, everything Snape isn’t.” Hermione knew better, thinking of the sweet tooth of the potions master and the warm spicy scent of his robes, but apart from keeping his secret she did not want to give her friend a heart attack by correcting him. Also she had to admit unlike Severus Snape, Professor Snape was not warm and sweet and smooth. More like prickly and irritable.

“He isn’t that bad” Luna said looking at them seriously. “I think he is just hurting.”

“Hurting” Ron repeated in a deadpan voice. “More like hurting students. You should have seen him on our first lesson this year” he was still obviously very upset at what happened. Hermione felt conflicted, she appreciated that her friends were protective of her, and she had been distraught herself, but it wasn’t fair to the potions master either. She wished she could defend him, even though she knew that was out of question. She did know that handling the aftermath of their confrontation would not be easy, but this wasn’t the kind of complication she expected. “He didn’t just tell Hermione off or did not just yell at her. He… he…”

“Verbally annihilated her.” Harry helped out.

“I was about to say he snaped at her, but it just doesn’t quite express the depth of it.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean nothing by it” Hagrid grumbled. “He is a good man, professor Dumbledore trusts him. He is just overworked, he is.”

“He probably does not know how to be anything else but a miserable git” Ron folded his hands over his chest.”

“Well, someone has to be kind to you to learn how to be kind to others” Luna interjected. Hermione thought her comment was rather insightful, and wondered if she had seen anyone show kindness to Severus Snape. Most of his interactions seemed to be with his students or colleagues, well, those she could actually see. She did not have to look at his students to know there was no love lost there. What she had witnessed between him and professor McGonagall seemed to be a collegial, light-hearted banter, but would she call it kindness? At the order meetings no one was openly rude to him, well, except for Sirius, but then again the potions master regularly referred to him as ‘flea-inflicted mangy cur’, it would have made Sir Cadogan proud. The others were polite enough to him, but no one truly tried to engage him in a conversation afterwards, or go out of their way to include him in group activities. Come to think of it the only one who seemed to thank him for his efforts was professor Dumbledore who said ‘Thank you, Severus’ each time finished his report, but the headmaster did say that to everyone who had anything to share. Truth to be told Professor Snape discouraged people from trying to show him kindness, so she could not wholly blame the Order for that either. It was a shame really, unlike Professor Snape, Severus Snape had a great if dry sense of humour, he could be insightful and inspiring.

Luna’s statement has made everyone else visibly uncomfortable. Her remark was insightful, and free of accusations, even though she knew her Ravenlaw friend was often the target of bullying. Before Hermione could start to think about why the potions master seemed to want to push everyone away, Harry interrupted her thoughts.

“Well, I guess someone should do it” he said. “It would be very healthy for everyone. Though I am not signing up for hugging him, I like all my limb attached. But hey, Luna, I wanted to talk to you in private. Could you please… I don’t know, come to walk with me? Around the lake maybe.”

“Thank you, Harry but you are not really my type” she said tipping her cowboy hat back. “Also, it would be unfair to Ginevra.” Harry blushed a deep shade of red.

“It’s not like that!” He seemed to be lost for words, while Ron was having a fit of giggles in the background. “I wanted your help with something.”

“Well, ok then” Luna said jumping off the fence. “But we should be careful to avoid the water, this time of the year the waterjompies are really active.”

“The what are active?” Ron asked confused.

“Waterjompies. They live in lakes and they like to hug the skin of people who go into the water, especially the delicate parts. But their skin produces a toxin that causes rainbow-coloured rashes.” Sounded like something really likely.

“Don’t worry, Professor Snape probably knows how to make an antidote” Hermione said. She had to stifle a giggle at the mental image of someone asking the dour potions master for an antidote against rainbow-coloured rash on their butts.

“That’is true. Still, I rather not get rashes” she answered handing the glass jar to Hermione. “Can you please catch any murgblobls you see?” She took the glass without much thought.

“Uhm, sure. What do they look like?”

“Bright orange, round, about this big” she indicated about four inches with her fingers. “They have green tentacles that look like vines” she tucked her wand behind her ear and skipped off towards Harry. “Should we go?” The two off them took off towards the water.

“What do you think Harry needs?” Ron asked, looking after the pair, confused.

“No idea” she admitted. “If he wants us to know he will probably share it, I guess.”

“I guess” Ron shrugged. With the departure of their friends there was suddenly an uncomfortable silence. Ron broke it asking “Hey, Hagrid, what is in the sack?”

“Oh, this firethistle. They like fairy droppings, so they appeared in the pumpkin patch. Professor Snape asked me before if I saw any I should collect it for him” he explained as he grabbed a patch of weed, and pulled. “He uses it in a potion, and they cannot be grown in a greenhouse, they only grow in the wild.” He threw a bunch of weed into the wicker basket. Hermione stilled with shock. She only knew one use of firethistle, and that was in a regenerative potion that was used to treat nerve damage and muscle cramps caused by being exposed to the cruciatus curse for an extended amount of time. She wondered for whom he might be brewing it, she did not see a potion order list for St Mungo on his desk and students were rarely exposed to unspeakables, so it wasn’t for the infirmary either. Her mind supplied her with an image of a frantic Draco, crouching on top of his desk, looking wild and pale, eyes moving rapidly. Perhaps some students did need it. With a sinking feeling she realised that Malfoy wasn’t the only one who had to spend time in the company of You-know-who and his deatheaters, so he may not have been the only one in need of the restorative potion.

The others seemed to be oblivious to her thoughts, and she watched absentmindedly as Hagrid worked. When he grabbed another bunch of weed and pulled, she suddenly saw something small and orange streak away from the greenery. She nearly dropped the jar she was holding in surprise.

“What the…” Ron muttered, taken aback. She fumbled for her wand, and used _Accio_ to collect the little creature. She gently dropped it into the jar, and fastened the lid. She used her wand to pick holes in the cover to make sure it had enough air.

“Well, look at that” she whispered.

“Bloody hell” Ron said in amazement as she lifted the glass to examine their catch. It was not quite round or like blob, it looked more like an orange little mouse with green eyes, green legs, and several green tentacle-like tails. It was rather adorable. “Is that a murgblolb?”

“I don’t know, I have never seen anything like this before” she responded, her eyes glued to the little critter. “What about you, Hagrid?” She held up the jar to the half-giant.

“That ain’t look like anything I have seen before” he grumbled, threading his fingers through his matted beard.

“But that means that one of the crazy things Loony I mean, Luna believes in is real” Ron said sounding half-scared half-wondering. “What if the rest or at least some of the rest is too?” And wasn’t that the thousand Galleon question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had no Severus in it, but I promise the next one will more than make up for it! It will be also quite a bit longer than the average, because there was just no good spot to cut it into pieces. It will also have a lot of fangirl moments, so stay tuned :)


	16. By moonlight we fly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Neither the world or the characters are mine, I merely borrowed the to have a bit of fun. When I am finished, I will return them slightly used.  
> \---  
> Special thanks for the reviews for:
> 
> buttons1721  
>  cancaleblue  
>  Grimmy_hild  
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>  BringsTheSnow   
>  Erin1701d
> 
> And everyone who left me kudos. Feedback makes a writer happy :)
> 
> Bonus points to those who recognise where the chapter title comes from.

Hermione was walking down the corridors leading to the dungeons again. She had to force herself to try to look at least neutral if not downright sad, students did not go to detention with Professor Snape with a huge smile plastered on their faces skipping down the stairs. But she could not help it, the first batch of _Essence of Void_ was ready and the _Prison of Magic_ was at an exciting stage which would require capturing moonlight and trapping it in the brew with the use of their own hair and blood. The silvery energy is supposed to purify the magic. It was an ancient and complex technique, something taught at master level only and she was fortunate to witness it.

She did enjoy being back at Hogwarts, but these detentions have quickly became the best times of her week. The discovery was exhilarating, the conversation witty and fascinating. When she entered the study of Professor Snape she expected him to be sitting behind the desk, grading papers as usual. Instead, she found him in the middle of the study, surrounded by a number of mirrors, a cast iron cauldron, some potion ingredients and artificer paste.

“Ah, Miss Granger” he looked up from what seemed to be a checklist.

“Good evening, Professor Snape” she greeted him cheerfully. “Did you have a nice day?” He looked at her with an arch of eyebrow.

“As nice as it can be while trying to teach hormonal imbeciles with no interest or talent in the art” he drawled.

“That bad?” she asked walking over to him to look at all the stuff in the room.

“I have a second year Hufflepuff that puts both you and Mr Longbottom to shame” he answered pinching the bridge of his nose. Hermione looked at him taken aback. It was no secret that Professor Snape did not really like either of them, but there were very different reasons for that.

“That sounds… impressive. May I ask how he does that?”

“She” he corrected her crossing something out on his parchment. “She reads a lot but she barely remembers half of what was in the book and mixes ideas, theories and potion ingredients. She nearly falls out of the seat each time I ask a question, but she talks more nonsense that Sybill after a bottle of Sherry.” She chuckled at the image. “This does not dissuade her from trying to help other students which usually results in several exploding cauldrons.”

“That sounds stressful” she admitted.

“I keep telling Albus I deserve hazard pay” he sighed. Hermione had to agree. “As for today’s experiment we will venture outside to capture moonlight. Did you read the chapter I gave you on the topic?”

“Naturally” he answered by arching one eyebrow at him. It was a silly question, she read the whole book and found it fascinating. He smirked at her with an arch of eyebrow. Hermione could not help but give him a wide, bright smile.

“Right. We are going to go to a clearing in the Forbidden Forest to do so. As it is rather unadvisable to go trampling around in the forest at night, we will be flying. You should keep…”

“I apologise for interrupting, Sir, but I do not own a broom.” Also, she really didn’t want to fly, but she kept that to herself.

“I did expect that and I arranged for a Slytherin house broom for the occasion” he said with a wave of his hand as if shooing a fly away.

“A Slytherin house broom?” she asked nonplussed. She knew about school brooms, but she never heard of anything house-specific.

“Yes, Miss Granger” he explained with an impatient sigh. “House Slytherin accepts donations from professional quidditch players whenever they get an upgrade. Not every parent can afford to buy a good racing broom for their children, but how could the house field the best possible quidditch team if some students did not have access to quality equipment to play, practice and develop their talents? These brooms can be borrowed long-term by anyone in need of one, whether they make the team or not, to give them all an equal chance to grow and get better. Surely other house heads have similar programs?” Hermione never heard of Gryffindor having such house brooms, or Ron and Ginny would definitely have gotten something better for themselves and a lot sooner too. She found the program most intriguing, and wanted to know who started it and how it worked, but this was not the time. “As I was saying, we will be flying out. Try to keep close, and do not land before I have set up some wards to protect us.”

“Yes, sir.” She was really not happy with the prospect of flying, especially that she could not apparate on Hogwarts grounds if she slipped off the broom.

“I will keep a slow pace” he promised seeing her unease. “Do try to stay on your broom, but should you slide off, I will be there to help.”

He flicked his wand and a couple of broom saddlebags came floating onto the table. They must have been enchanted with an expandable charm, because he packed twelve floor-length mirrors, a cast iron cauldron and all the ingredients in them. When they were ready to leave he jabbed his wand at the bags and they kept following them, floating in the air.

“We might be seen leaving the building. If anyone asks, we went out collecting mooncalf dung tonight” he instructed her as they walked towards the entrance hall. It was already after curfew, the corridors were deserted and their steps echoed loudly in the cavernous rooms. The potions master led Hermione to the brooms sheds and with a complex wave of his wand he unlocked a door marked with a Slytherin emblem. He flicked his fingers twice, and two brooms came hurtling to them. One she recognised as a Nimbus 2001. In their second year Harry and Ron would not stop talking about Malfoy buying his way into the Slytherin team with a set of expensive brooms so this particular type was burned in her memory. The other, that stopped in front of Severus Snape she did not recognise, nor did she see a name or a brand engraved in it. She was no expert when it came to brooms, but it did seem like a unique piece. She watched as stroked the hovering broom nearly affectionately before loading the saddlebags on. She grabbed her own broom and clambered on it, while he mounted with a well-practiced ease.

“Try to keep up, Miss Granger, and don’t forget not to land until I have secured the place.” She nodded at him, gripping the broom with sweaty palms. It was only a few weeks ago she told him she wasn’t terrified of flying, just uncomfortable. Time to prove it. They kicked off, and flew into the night.

True to his word, he set an slow speed, and after an easy, wide turn over the quidditch pitch they headed towards the Forbidden forest. The trees were washed in bright moonlight, the full moon had been only a few days before. The leaves rustled in a silvery green colour as they rushed past above. The sky was clear, a pale, washed out bluish-dark grey. If she had not been so nervous about flying she would have though the experience was enchanting. She noticed that Severus Snape kept looking back at her, checking if she was still following. The wind rushed past her, blowing her unruly hair back from her face, and as minutes passed the castles shrunk behind them to a dark silhouette.

After about twenty minutes of flying he slowed his speed, and waited for her to catch up to him. She tried to gently decrease the speed, but the broom between her legs was faster and more powerful than anything else she had the misfortune to ride, and she came to a sudden, jerky stop next to the potion master. She needed all her strength to hold on and not to fly off the end of the broom. He gave her a knowing smirk, and she felt heat rush into her face. She hated not being good at something.

“You may descend when you see the wards flare to life” he said before his broom dipped into a nose dive, hurtling towards the ground. Her feet started to sweat at the sight, her breath hitched. She left out a shaky breath she did not realise she was holding when he pulled the broom parallel to the ground and dismounted. They were in a clearing that held ruins of a building. She has red Hogwarts, a History several times, but none of the stories mentioned buildings this far out in the forest. There was a mosaic floor that depicted a hydra with three heads, bits and pieces of walls, some no taller than her knees, some reaching high into the sky with blind, empty windows looking at the sky. There weren’t enough intact walls to tell what the buildings were supposed ho be. She found it strange that neither the vegetation not the inhabitants of the Forest claimed the place and covered the stones. The remaining white rocks were shining in the moonlight and the strange sounds of the forest made a shiver run down her spine. She was glad she wasn’t alone in the ruins.

She followed a dark smudge with her eyes, which was the potions master walking around and warding the place. When he completed his circuit a dome of light sprung into existence, and she carefully nudged her broom to descend. To her relief it followed her instructions and descended gently, and came to a stop right next to him. She was about to say ‘this wasn’t so bad’ and climb off when the already stationary broom suddenly pulled back with a fast jerk and a slight bump, and threw her. She tried to hold on, but with a small shriek she slid off the wood and landed ass-first in the grass. She had to wonder if the broom knew that she was no Slytherin.

Severus Snape smirked down at her. “Are you all right, Miss Granger?” he asked with unconcealed merriment in his eyes. He extended his arm to help her up.

“Never better” she said ironically, and took his hand. She was surprised to find his long and delicate fingers warm after such a long, windy ride in night. He chuckled, and pulled her to her feet with an easy motion as if she had weighted nothing. She could not help noticing how pleasant his chuckle was, deep and silky. The quick smile that lit up his face made him look years younger. She suddenly wished he had a reason to laugh and smile more, though that might give unsuspecting students a heart attack.

The expression on his face was fleeting, when she stood and dusted off her clothes he was already busy with the saddlebags with a serious expression.

“We are going to set up the cauldron there” he motioned at the mosaic floor. “You may treat the mirrors with a light beam-focusing charm, it is simple enough, while I will draw the moonlight-catching ward.” Without waiting for an answer he billowed away, and started casting spells on the floor. Hermione frowned, he was not using the magic guides professor McGonagall showed her, nor the light grid. Ignoring his instructions she walked up to him.

“Excuse me, Sir” she said somewhat nervously, wringing her hands. She had never tried to correct him on anything before, and she had no idea how he would take it. “I have had some tutoring from Professor McGonagall on drawing wards and she showed me some better techniques. Maybe it would be better if I was the one drawing the ward?” she suggested timidly.

He glanced down at her with his brows furrowed. At first she thought he would get angry with her, but when he did not snap at her she kept looking at him hopefully. She wasn’t sure what he may have been thinking, but slowly his expression smoothed into a neutral mask, and he lowered his wand.

“Very well, Miss Granger. It would be foolish not to put all the knowledge at our disposal to use” he said and without further ado, he stormed back to the brooms and started to pull the mirrors from the bags.

Hermione watched him for a few seconds before she turned back to the floor. She cast a _Finite Incantatem_ to get rid of the spells the head of Slytherin has cast. She proceeded to set up the silver magic guide, anchoring it to the corners of the stone floor before she started casting the modified spells they have also used when creating the wards for the Hecate crystals. She added the light purple grid of light and the invisible floor to walk above. She was about to turn and fetch the book with the drawing of the ward in it when she promptly collided with the chest of the potions master.

“Ummaawwhh” she said with flailing arms, trying to keep her balance and not to fall on her ass the second time. His hands shot out and caught her upper arms, steading her on her feet.

“I am so sorry professor” she said blushing. “I did not know you were there.”

“Apparently” he smirked. They stood nearly chest-to-chest, she felt the heat radiating from him. He smelled like grapefruit, cinnamon and sandalwood, warm and spicy. She caught herself staring, and quickly lowered her eyes and took a step back.

“Thank you for catching me, sir” she said nervously. His eyes swept over her work. He waved his wand over the floor and an even, pale greenish-yellow sheet of light appeared over the mosaic for a few seconds then slowly faded away.

“Professor, what kind of spell was that?” she asked.

“A diagnostic charm that evaluated the quality of the spellwork. Blue or purple is unacceptable, red is poor quality, orange is mediocre, yellow is good and green is excellent” he explained. “Good work, Miss Granger. The magical base is even and an excellent quality for a second time attempt. I have to admit I would not have been able to create such a professional base” he said. She felt heat rushing to her cheeks, and a warm, fuzzy feeling was extending in her chest. He had been teaching her for seven years, and this was the very first time he had praised her work. With a flick of a wand he summoned a book and opened it at the ward they were supposed to be drawing. It was a lot smaller and simpler than the one she created for the Hecate crystals. It resembled a star with twelve points, only the points were not sharp but a small circle. She guessed that is where the twelve mirrors would go. In the middle of the star there was an empty field, she suspected it was for the cauldron, and there was a circle surrounding it all.

“This point” the potions master tapped the paper with his elegant finger “needs to be pointing north. She nodded in understanding.

“Can I draw the wards?” She asked.

“Certainly. I will finish enchanting the mirrors.”

She had used the spell she had found for Harry for the Triwizard Tournament that pointed out the direction of north. She cast the same purple grid on the drawing in the book and got to work. They worked in comfortable silence. While she completed the drawing she could not help but enjoy the feeling of being useful. Usually when they were brewing he had decades worth of experience on her, and it was very clear that she was just the ‘help’. Tonight she could do something better, and for a fleeting moment it made them equals in this. When it came to brewing, she would probably never catch up to him, she just did not seem to have the intuition he possessed at a young age already. But potions were not the only way to grow and develop, and no one would ever question that him and Professor McGonagall, for example for equals. Different fields, different expertise, but equals. She wanted to grow to become his equal.

Slowly as the ward took form the potions master has placed the already enchanted mirrors in their own little circles. It took her about twenty minutes to finish drawing. The bespelled mirrors reflected the light back in a single thin ray. They placed the cauldron in the middle and aimed all the twelve light beams into it.

“We are going to capture the moonlight in raw arcomantula silk” he explained throwing lauryl leaves into the cauldron. “The best time frame to do is the witching hour, which unlike common belief, isn’t between midnight and one. It is the one hour that falls exactly between sunset and sunrise, as magic really does not care for such things as time zones and summer and winter times” he explained adding more ingredients to the mixture. “Moonlight can be captured any other times too but will be less powerful. I will activate the wards at the start of the witching hour, and we will wait sixty minutes then add the hair and blood to contain the magic” he placed the silk into the mixture and poured a potion on top of it. It let out a gentle sizzle and the scent of rosemary wafted from the cauldron.

When he was finished with the preparation he motioned her to follow him to the edge of the ward. They did not have to wait long before the witching hour has started. Witch a complex incantation and wand movement he activated the wards she drew. The white lines of the paste seemed to come alive, and as if an invisible hand was rolling up a ball of yarn, they slid into the cauldron, disappearing from sight. She was not sure what to expect, maybe a sound or a flash of light, but neither happened. A column of darkness appeared above the cauldron; inky, black and impenetrable. If the silk was supposed to absorb the light, she should have expected that, after all, if there is no light coming from that direction, well, it would appear to be dark. Like a black hole.

She sat down on one of a little wall that was left over from some unknown building, watching the twelve mirrors reflecting the light. The night was clear, fresh and sharp and she felt strangely awake and excited. Soon the head of Slytherin settle next to her and they observed the scene in relaxed silence. She risked a sideways glance at him. He was leaning back slightly on one arm, his back straight and expression relaxed. In the silvery moonlight his pale skin seemed to glow and he appeared nearly angelic. No, not like a chubby faced cherub but an angel of destruction that would carry a flaming sword and pass judgement. She could not suppress a smile at the idea of what he would say if he knew what she was thinking about.

He must have felt her eyes on him as he turned his head in her direction and raised an eyebrow at her like a question. She blushed, but that probably wasn't visible in the darkness. “What kind of ruins are these, professor?” she asked.

“We do not know for sure. They are somewhat more than two thousand years old, and they were here long before the founders have cast the wards that became Hogwarts, already in despair. The age of the ruins coupled with the style of the building and pieces of mosaic found suggests Roman origin.” She frowned.

“Aren't we north from Hadrian's wall?”

“We are. But the building is surrounded by a powerful magical ward which to day keeps the forest at bay. Such wards would have been enough of a protection for any Roman noble who wanted to settle down just outside of the borders of the empire or have an exotic summer residence. My theory is that it must have been a gift, probably a wedding gift to bride from Pannonia provintia.”

“A hydra mosaic does not seem very romantic to me” she pondered.

“That is no hydra in the mosaic” he countered. “Hydras are green or black, and in daylight it is clear that this beast is a deep red. It depicts a three-headed dragon, they were autochthonous in the Carpathian mountains along with a much rarer, seven headed version. There are also legends of a twelve-headed beast, but there is no hard evidence of their existence.”

“Were autochthonous? What happened to them?”

“What is the fate of all great creatures deemed valuable or dangerous?” he asked in a sad, slightly bitter tone. “They were hunted to extinction roughly eight hundred years ago. There are some skeletons and armour made of heir scales in museums of the region.” A shiver run down her spine.

“It is sad that in our quest to own something beautiful or rare we destroy these exceptional things” she said.

“Indeed” with a deep sigh he turned his attention back to their experiment. Minutes ticked by slowly, and Hermione’s eyes wandered onto the brooms lying near the ruins.

“Professor, could you please tell me a bit about the Slytherin broomstick program? I don’t think Gryffindor has anything similar.” She just could not help herself, she was full of questions and the came bubbling to the surface.

“I see” he said casting a quick glance at her with a smirk. Probably he was thinking the same thing. “Do you wish to borrow a broom long-term, Miss Granger?” he asked in a slightly teasing tone.

“No, thank you, sir” she answered with abject terror. “I still do not enjoy flying. I know this is something I should work on as it is rather restrictive to…”

“There are other types of transformation” he interjected looking down at her along his nose.

“Well, yes. It kind of excludes me from quidditch though.” He snorted. “I was just wondering how comes other houses do not have such programs?”

“They do, but they have less funding available. It is the task of the Head of house to secure these resources, and let’s just say some are better at it than others” he smirked. “It is our task to take care for the students in any way they would need. I am well aware that not all children are born into similar families. Some are lacking financing, others lack a parent figure or emotional bond, some households are toxic and abuse children in many different ways.” His eyes were fixed on something behind her, probably something he could only see. She wondered what he had experienced and seen as a teacher to give him that look. “I am trying to make sure that no matter in which family a Slytherin child is born they have all the opportunities their luckier classmates would have. Slytherin also has funds to provide new uniforms for those in need to avoid bullying, but it is also possible for them to ask for other items that would help their development, such as music instruments to be used in the school choir, art supplies, gobstones, magic chess-sets, even pets.”

“Wow, I nearly regret not being a Slytherin, though I wouldn’t have needed the financial help.”

He smirked at her. “There is a reason you have never seen a Slytherin in hand-me down robes and second-hand books” he said studying her. Hermione was truly impressed with his dedication, it could not have been easy to acquire the money nor to monitor the needs of that many students.

“Sir, how do you know which students need some sort of help? There are at least a hundred Slytherins.”

“Experience” he answered, his face a carefully emotionless mask. Hermione wondered if he meant his nearly two decades of teaching experience or something more personal. What he did not say and the emotions he did not show hinted at a less than happy childhood. She desperately wanted to ask, but he would probably feel she was just prying or that she wanted to know out of morbid curiosity, so she stifled the urge. The carefully neutral look on his face made her heart hurt and she suddenly had the inexplicable urge pull him into a hug and comfort him. Which was silly, he wasn’t a child anymore, nor did he seem to be in emotional distress. Also, she very much doubted he would have appreciated it. She could even imagine him trying to push her desperately away in a most cartoon-like way, saying ‘Get off me Ganger’, his palm pushing against her forehead. A heavy silence fell between them, full of things not said and not asked. He turned his attention back to the cauldron again.

“Sir, do you know how to make an antidote for a rash caused for a waterjompie?” she blurted out to break the tension.

“A what?” he asked back with eyebrows raised.

“Well, Luna Lovegood was telling us about this creature the other day” she explained. “She called it a waterjompie. It is supposed to live in the water, have a tendency to hug swimmers especially the more delicate areas and the touch cases a rainbow-coloured rash.” He considered her explanation, tapping a forefinger against his lips thoughtfully.

“I am not sure, but it sounds like she may have been talking about Chambee. It is an Asian sub-species of a grindylow. They do not hug the swimmers as Miss Lovegood put it, they live in an environment that is very low in salts and minerals. They have developed a sucker on their stomach, which they use suck on the skin of the skimmers and basically give them a massive hickey” he explained. “It is true that is advisable to cover the more delicate areas, as they do prefer softer, thinner skin and the bite of their sucker can be unpleasant” he explained, crossing his legs. She had a feeling it was an unconscious move, most men did that if a potential danger to their privates was discussed. “The rainbow colour comes in that their skin actually has healing properties, and where they touch the bruising it starts to heal, and looks days old, turning greenish-yellowish, further away it is still fresh and blackish-bluish. There is a smooth gradient of colour change. If this is really the creature that Miss Lovegood mentioned there is no antidote needed, just some traditional bruise paste will do.”

“I can hardly believe that another one of Luna’s crazy creatures seems to exist. Most of her ideas are so outlandish, even after having seen dragons and unicorns I just thought they were too impossible.”

“Very few things are truly impossible with magic if one is willing to pay the price, though often it is just not worth it” he pondered. “You mentioned this was _another_ creature that existed? What was the first one you encountered?”

“She called it a murgblob. We found it in the pumpkin patch, it looks like an orange mouse with green eyes, legs and several, tentacle-like green tail” she explained. “Have you ever seen anything like that, sir?”

“I can’t say I have. I have grown up with magic, but to this day it can surprise me with something I did not foresee or expect.”

“I doubt anyone can ever learn all there is to be known about magic” she mused.

“And why is that?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I think it is not just magic that has an effect on us. I think everyone has an influence or effect on magic. Discovering new species, making complex potions, crafting new spells and wards, setting trends and creating customs, it must have an effect on the whole. Even something as simple and common as the sadness and despair of one can give birth to dementors, who in turn will further change the world around them. And people can be so different, unpredictable and surprising both in their creativity and destruction” she explained looking into his eyes. “No one can truly know how others see the world, how they experience the same event, what they might feel, and ultimately, how they would react. So no one can know how others are going to push and shape magic and the world around them.”

“Indeed. One can never know the true depth of another.” She had just started to discover how much of Professor Snape was a mask, designed to keep up appearances, hiding the real Severus Snape. She did surprise herself by wanting to know more about the real person underneath. “We can only see the surface and try to learn what lies below” he said his eyes flitting over her face. “And we might find the greatest treasures or utmost horrors in the most surprising people.”

“I don’t even think we can truly and fully know ourselves” she mused. “We are blind to some of our own weaknesses and shortcomings, scared to explore hidden abilities. One might need the help of another to shine a light on these” she said thinking out loud. Suddenly the hour was over the moonlight collecting spell broke, and the column of darkness vanished from the clearing. With the light suddenly flooding in Hermione felt as if she had been sitting in the cinema and the lights were suddenly turned on. The effect broke the spell between them and she reluctantly returned to business.

“We need to trap the magic” the potions master said standing. She followed him to the cauldron that was emitting a soft, silvery glow. “We need to add the hair first” he instructed. She clearly remembered the instructions from the book he gave her, they needed to plate a lock of hair from each of them together to symbolise the binding. She drew her wand to cut a piece off when he stopped her. “We need to first braid the hair together then cut it. You will need to step closer, Miss Granger.” He used his fingers to separate a lock of his hair from the rest. Hermione stepped up to his right side, their robes brushing against each other. She felt the heat coming off him and hoped that he could not see her blushing in the poor light.

She separated a lock of hair from the side of her head holding it out to him. The potions master had to bend over for their heads to be on the same level. It seemed like an uncomfortable position to her. He attempted to braid the hair together. As he worked his fingers accidently brushed against her cheek causing a tingling sensation and she felt blood rushing into her face. It soon became very obvious that he had no practice in braiding hair, the plate was too loose and his fine, soft hair kept escaping it.

“Professor, maybe I should do this” she offered.

“Indeed” with delicate, long fingers he held out the locks to her, and she took it nervously, willing her fingers not to tremble. She undid his work, quickly divided the hair in three, each containing at least a few hairs from both of them. She started to work with well-practiced fingers, but could not help marvelling at the softness of the rest of his hair which brushed against the back of her hands as she worked.

“I wonder what potion masters with short or no hair do when they need to capture moonlight” she said more to distract herself from the sensation of his warm breath on her hands. He snorted, which did not help.

“There are charms, potions and spells that help you grow a lock of hair longer, obviously” he replied. The back of her hand accidently brushed against the stubble on his chin and she mumbled an apology which he ignored.

“Doesn’t the potion or spell interfere with the moonlight? After all the magic of potions comes from the magic that touches the ingredients.”

“That is actually a valid question. Maybe something to research once the war is over and I have the free time and energy to do so” he pondered. Hermione reached the end of his hair, but kept going until the locks became one single braid.

“I am ready” she said holding the plate out in front of her, away from their faces.

“Hold it over the cauldron and let it fall once I have cut it loose” he instructed and drew his wand. He used the end of it like a knife and cut through the hairs. Before the braid could start to untangle she flung it into the potion that hissed and the light dimmed substantially.

“Good. Now we add the blood” he said and quickly stepped away from her straightening up. She placed the tip of her wand onto her palm, intending to cut through it, but he grabbed her wrist. His fingers were warm against her skin.

“Don’t. Your palm has a lot of nerve endings, it is very painful to cut it” he explained letting her hand go. “The safest is to cut the back of your arm, where there are no major veins close to the surface and a lot less nerves to hurt you” she watched him roll up the sleeves of his robes and his shirt. She saw a flash of black against his lower inner arm and diverted her eyes. She would not want someone to ogle her dark mark if she had one. She followed his suit and rolled up her sleeves. The potions master stepped up to the cauldron, his arm bent at the elbow and drew his wand across the pale skin. There was a weak flash of red light and a wound opened on the back his arm, blood flowing out into the cauldron. He never even flinched. As the red liquid hit the surface of the brew the silvery shine dimmed even further. He allowed his blood to flow free for a few seconds before he dragged the tip of his wand up, and like a zipper he closed the gash, there wasn’t even a small scar left.

“Miss Granger” he said raising an eyebrow at her. She stepped up to the cauldron nervously, and held her hand out. Her feet were beginning to sweat. She drew the tip of the wand down on her skin with a wince. She wished she could close her eyes. A small wound appeared in her skin, but no deeper than a papercut. With a trembling hand she repeated the motion, and a few tiny droplets of blood broke to the surface. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead, her stomach twisting in anxiousness. She drew a ragged breath, and tried it a third time, swaying slightly on her feet, but the result was no different. Her breath was becoming too rapid.

“Miss Granger” he looked up at Severus Snape as he was doing the last button his cuff. “Why didn’t you tell me that you are afraid of blood?” he asked not unkindly. She swallowed hard.

“I am not really afraid of blood” she tried to explain, feeling weak in the knees. “Just my own, I guess.”

He drew his wand and conjured a chair out of nowhere and she collapsed on it gratefully, carefully avoiding to look at her arm which was burning with three shallow cuts.

“It is a natural instinct to not want to hurt ourselves, but you should have told me. I can help with his” he said trying to calm her.

“I’m sorry, professor. I did not realise until now that this would be a problem” she said wiping away cold sweat from her forehead with the sleeve of her robes. “It didn’t bother me this much until a year ago when I was wounded in the Department of Mysteries” her hand went to the scar that Dolohov gave her on its own. His curse has opened her from her shoulder, passed between her two breasts and took a curve to end under her ribs on the opposite side from the shoulder. “There was a lot of blood” she added. It sounded very much like a cheap excuse to her.

He nodded in in understanding and to her surprise, he knelt in front of her which put their faces more or less on the same level. She appreciated the gesture.

“Miss Granger, do you trust me?” he asked looking her in the eye.

“Of course, sir” she replied without hesitation.

“Then let me help you. I will hold your hand and you won’t have to look. I will seal the wound and there will be no scar left.”

“Yes, please.”

“Can you stand?” She took a deep breath and stood, stepping up to the cauldron again. He stood across from her, and took her wrist in his left hand. Somehow the touch was reassuring and calming.

“Look in my eye, Miss Granger.” Her eyes flitted down to her arm with the few beads of blood breaking through the cuts, but she obeyed, looking into the deep, black eyes of Severus Snape. “Don’t look down, just keep looking in my eye. That’s a good girl” he said encouragingly and she felt him drag his wand down her arm. The temptation to look at what was happening was strong, but she held his gaze with her own. There was a sort of burning sensation, but nothing worse than what she inflicted on herself before and the pale light coming from the cauldron vanished. She tried to read the expression on his face, but it was foreign and different from anything else she has seen before, and could not quite place it. Truth to be told she has never really had the opportunity to look in his eyes for so long and study his face. He had really nice and long eyelashes, she realised, even Parvati or Lavender would envy them. His irises were so dark that they nearly melt into the blackness of the pupils, striking against the paleness of his skin, regal. It somehow matched his nose and high cheekbones giving him a noble, elegant air.

There was a motion and she felt a cool, somewhat numb sensation on her arm as he pulled his wand up sealing her wound. He muttered a spell that removed all traces of blood before letting her hand go. Gingerly she bent her arm examining the skin. There was no trace of a scar.

“Thank you, sir” she smiled, rolling down her sleeves. With his help it wasn’t that scary at all. He nodded and stepped up the caldron, examining the results.

He flicked his wand and the arcomantula silk sheet rose, dry, and whiter than anything she has ever seen, except maybe for a unicorn. He pondered the fabric with a thoughtful expression sending a quick glance in her direction. She had no idea what he may have been thinking about. With a wave of his wand he folded the fabric and sent it back into one of the saddle bags.

“This was a success” he announced. “Our work is done here, we should head back to the castle.” He cancelled the charms on the mirrors and they returned all the equipment into the bags before taking off into the night. The flight back to the school was uneventful, and she had a difficult time keeping her eyes open. It was late and she was suddenly exhausted both physically and emotionally. Having a near panic attack would do that.

When they landed she readied herself for the broom to reverse and try to throw her off. It must have sensed her intention, because instead it came to an abrupt stop and rolled upside down. After a heartbeat of hanging on like a sloth she fall into the grass with a scared little shriek. Gods, she hated flying. The potions master couldn’t supress a laugh, but he extended his arm to her with a smirk, and pulled her to her feet with ease.

“That broom really hates me” she said dusting her clothes and watched him close and ward the broom shed. “Maybe he can feel I am not a Slytherin.”

“Or it can feel your aversion to flying” he responded and they started to walk back towards the castle.

“Well, I can’t excel at everything” she admitted. He must have slowed his steps to accommodate her because she was not out of breath trying to keep up with him.

“No one can” he replied suddenly seriously, scanning her face. “And no one should strive to or believe they need to” he added thoughtfully. She wasn’t sure what to think of his statement and they walked in comfortable silence. When they reached the entrance hall, he turned to head towards the dungeon while she would be going back to Gryffindor tower.

“Good night, professor and see you tomorrow. Or later today, I guess.

“Good night, Miss Granger” he said and with a billow of his black robes he descended the stairs to his study. Hermione took her way back to her own dorm, pondering the new side of the potions master that she was allowed to see. He was patient with her and seemed nearly caring, though that could have been just the most efficient way to handle a problem and save their captured moonlight. He definitely gave her some things to think about.


	17. Suprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Neither the world or the characters are mine, I merely borrowed the to have a bit of fun. When I am finished, I will return them slightly used.  
> \---  
> Special thanks for the reviews for:
> 
> buttons1721  
> cancaleblue  
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> labrys71  
> captainswanismyendgame 
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> And everyone who left me kudos. Feedback makes a writer happy :)

“Winky!” Hermione called out in the empty classroom. The little house-elf appeared in front of her with a pop, wearing a Hogwarts kitchen towel as a toga.

“What can Winky do for Miss Hermione?” she beamed bowing deep.

“I wanted to discuss with you how you are progressing” she said pulling out a chair and sitting down. “How are you feeling?”

“Winky is happy to serve” the elf answered, though it told Hermione very little.

“Can you please show me the diary you have been keeping?” she asked. Winky clicked her fingers and the little book appeared in front of her. The little elf suddenly looked very nervous.

“If Miss Hermione is displeased Winky will punish herself. Winky can do better” she insisted.

“Winky” Hermione looked at her seriously, placing her hand on the closed book. “When it comes to someone enjoying or not liking something, there is no right or wrong. There is no not doing well enough. I like grilled chicken more than shepherd pie. Is that better or worse than liking the pie more?”

“It doesn’t matter, Winky thinks. Winky can make both grilled chicken and shepherd pie!” She did not think the little elf got her point, but she nodded anyway and opened the diary.

_12 September_

Enjoy: Winky is now not wearing clothes anymore.

Dislike: Winky has to sleep more hours.

_13 September_

Enjoy: Winky is tasked to start working on special lava cake

Dislike: Winky is not happy with results, but cannot punish herself

_14 September_

Enjoy: Winky gets to clean the living room of the headmaster

Dislike: Headmaster is not around and Winky fails to hear anything useful

_15 September_

Enjoy: Winky helps Dobby make dinner

Dislike: Winky not given any new tasks

_16 September_

Enjoy: Miss Hermione asks Winky for cookies and coffee and likes them

Dislike: Winky still not make good enough lava cake

_17 September_

Enjoy: Winky makes good lava cake, Winky can start working on ice-cream

Dislike: Winky did not overhear any news. Winky afraid she is not good house-elf

_18 September_

Enjoy: Winky was tasked by a student to bring more cookies to Hufflepuff common room

Dislike: Winky misses butterbeer but will not drink again

Hermione red the entries. She was happy to see that butterbeer was mentioned as a problem only once. The greatest source of happiness for the elf seemed to be when she was either given a direct, new order, or when she was successful with carrying out one of the other orders she gave her. She made herself a mental note to call on her more often if she can, and give her something simple to do.

“Thank you Winky, good job” she smiled handing the diary back. “Please keep up the work. I called you here today because I think it is time I introduced you to the other member of house Granger.”

“Winky is happy to serve all the family of Miss Hermione” she beamed, bowing to her.

“I would like you to understand that both my parents are muggles, and they have never seen a house elf before. When we go to visit them, I would like you to remain invisible so I can explain it to them without scaring them. Can you do that?”

“Winky is good house elf” she said indignantly. “Good elf is not seen, not heard unless called.” Hermione took that as a yes. She gave Winky the address of her parents’ house, and held out her hand to her. “Can you take us there?” she asked. As a reply the elf took her hand and they disappeared with a pop. The sensation was so different from apparating. One moment she is in a dusty classroom at Hogwarts, and the next second she was standing in the living room of her parents. No squeezing sensation, no lack of air. She wondered why wizards did not use elves for transportation more often.

Her father was sitting on the couch, reading a newspaper while the television was showing a football match he was not really following. Looking up from his paper he adjusted his glasses with a slight frown.

“Hermione dear, is that you?”

“Hi dad” she smiled walking up to him to give him a hug.

He stood to embrace her, but the frown did not disappear from his face. Holding her at arm’s length, he looked her up and down and asked “I’m glad to see you honey, but what are you doing away from school? Why aren’t you wearing your uniform? You did not get expelled, did you?”

“Of course not, dad, everything is fine” she protested. He nodded, kissing her forehead.

“You should do a bit more sporting dear, you look positively thin. A bit of muscle tone would look good on you. Does your school offer sports? Your cousin Hannah started playing tennis last year and she is enjoying it a lot, last month she won a local championship.” Hermione blushed, she has never been particularly good at sports and Hogwarts only had quidditch. She definitely did not want to spend any more time on a broomstick than strictly necessary. “A bit of sunshine and vitamin D does everyone good.”

“I will try to get a bit more fresh air” she promised. “I came to visit because I wanted to introduce you and mum to someone very important.” His frown deepened even further.

“Hermione, this is the worst possible time for you to be thinking about boys. This is your final year at school, you should be focusing on getting the best education and grades possible. It is terribly irresponsible to sneak away from school for some boy.” His words stung more than she wanted to admit, but she knew it was at least partially her own fault. If she had been more honest with them about the war he would have thought ‘danger’ sooner than ‘boys’, but she was worried they would try to keep her from returning, keep her from doing her own part.

“No, dad! It isn’t like that. I got a house elf for our family.”

“Ah” he was waiting for more explanation.

“Could we please get mum too? I will explain.”

“Ah, yes, certainly, my dear” he said giving her a kiss on the top of her head again. “She is in the library.” He sat down and grabbed the newspaper again while Hermione went to greet her mother. When she entered the room she found Dr Jane Granger kneeling on the floor, removing a pile of books from the lowest shelves.

“Hi mom” she greeted her with a smile. The older woman looked up surprised.

“Hermione dear” she smiled back, getting up from the floor. She rushed to her with a warm smile, embracing her in a tight hug. “I have missed you, baby. It is so nice to see you, but shouldn’t you be in school? It is unbecoming of a head girl to break the rules.” She let go of her and dusted the knees of her trousers.

“Don’t worry, mum, I will not make a habit of sneaking out and no one will notice just this once that I am gone for a few minutes. This is also very important.”

“I believe you, my dear. We have raised you to be a sensible girl, so it must be a good reason” her mum said and started stroking her hair. Hermione smiled. When she was a little girl she loved it when her mum braided her hair and put a small wild flower in it. It made her feel like a real little princess. “Your hair feels dry, my dear, you should pay more attention to it and take better care of it. The hair is the true crown of any woman! Hannah started using a new hair balm, it does a wonder on her curls, it may help with your wild hair too. She left a bottle here for you, I will grab it quickly” before she could say anything her mum disappeared through a door to their bedroom. She did not have to wait long though, in less than a minute she returned with an orange bottle that had peaches on it and handed it to her.

“Thank you, you shouldn’t have” she muttered.

“Thank Hannah, my dear. She is so kind and thoughtful, she comes around rather often to help in our practice too. I think she will make a great dentist one day” her mum beamed. “But enough of us. I see you so rarely, let’s hear about you” she added pulling Hermione to her side.

“There is something very important I had to show you both. Maybe we should all sit down in the living room” she answered still smiling. Her eyes fell on the books on the floor. She recognised some of them as novels written for children. She had spent many hours when she was younger curled up with them. The one on top of the pile, _Adventures of Polly, the youngest scientist_ had been her very favourite. “What are you doing with those books?” she asked indicating at the floor.

“Oh, I am giving them to a charity for children” her mum explained cheerfully. “We need some more space for new books” she added and started walking towards the living room. Hermione stood rooted to the spot.

“But those are my books” some were birthday gifts she asked for, a few were prizes she won at elementary school, a few she inherited from her grandma, some she bought from her pocket money.

“Uhm, yes. But they are children’s books, my dear. You are a grown woman now, you no longer need them. It is not like you have red them in years.” Her mother did have a point there, but she could not help but feel uneasy and hurt that they did not even ask her first before giving her stuff away. “And I am sorry honey, but we have limited space in our house, some things just have to go. But I will keep one of the shelves empty for you! When you get into a research program after school we can put your publications and theses there!” she added proudly. “I know we won’t really be able to show it to the relatives, but still. It will make me so proud how smart and accomplished my little girl grew up to be!” Hermione did not know how to feel about that.

“Mum I would like to keep those books” she said quietly.

“But you do not need them, honey. They could make some other child happy, and we do need the room.”

But they were her books. They held sentimental value for her. “Well, I may have children one day” at the shocked expression on her mum’s face she quickly added. “Not yet! Not for years. But when I do, I want them to be able to read them.”

“I understand that dear. But maybe, you should have kept your room a bit tidier. If you had gotten rid of the things you no longer need or use, there would be more room for the few things you do want to keep.” Her mum shook her head with a bemused smile. “I don’t know where went wrong with that, you surely didn’t learn this hoarding from us” she mussed up her hair.

“Don’t worry about the shelf space mum” Hermione answered uncomfortably flattering her hair. “I will take the books with me.” She drew her wand and shrunk the books and the hair balm until they were small enough to fit into her pockets. She would unshrink them at Hogwarts later. “Now, let us go to the living room, there is something very important I want to discuss with you.”

Her mother went ahead and sat next to her dad. The two of them were looking at her expectantly.

She was uncertain where to start. They needed to know some things about the war, but not everything. “Last year an old movement in the wizarding world has re-surfaced” she started. “It gained followers, dangerous ones, fast. They call themselves death-eaters. This movement has a strong dislike for muggles and muggle-born witches, like me, and they seek to eliminate them, well, us, and the death-eaters aren’t afraid of breaking all the laws in the process. This potentially puts you, my parents, in danger and without magic you are very vulnerable to their attacks. I came here to put up some protective measures.”

“Can’t you just leave the magic world behind?” her father asked. “It is not too late to become a dentist, you always were a fast learner and you wanted to become a maxillofacial surgeon. You could still do that.”

“Not using magic would not change the fact that I do possess the ability to do so. Also, they hate muggles too, it would make little difference to them whether I am muggle or muggle-born.” When her parents did not seem to have more objections, she continued. “I am going to set up a ward around the house. It will be invisible and you won’t feel a thing, but it will give a warning when someone magical other than me crosses it. And as for how to get you to safety. I already told dad that I have gotten a house elf. They are magical creatures who help and aid wizards and witches they bond with. They can appear and disappear at will. Mine is called Winky, and she will get you to safety if the ward is breached. Winky!”

The elf appeared with a pop in the living room. She saw her mum move back a bit instinctively, but her parents were regarding the newcomer with interest.

“Winky, these are my parents Jane and Thomas Granger. I will set up a ward around the house. If it is breached, I want you to come here, get them and take them somewhere safe, then come and warn me.”

“It is a pleasure to meet Mr and Mrs parents of Miss Hermione. Winky will help to keep the parents of Miss Hermione safe” the elf bowed.

“It is nice to meet you too, Winky” her mum smiled, and her dad gave the elf a little nod.

“Mum, dad, these are dangerous times for all of us. Should you find yourself in trouble, kidnapped, stalked, threatened by a wizard or a witch, please call Winky. She will come and get you, but only use her help in an emergency. We do not want to show our hand to those who would harm us.” Her parents have reluctantly agreed, but they did not seem to be convinced of the necessity of it. She hoped against hope they would never be in a situation when they needed Winky.

She set up the wards around the house and when she returned found her parents having tea with Winky. She was glad that they have hit it off so easily. “There you are, my dear” her mum smiled setting her teacup down. “Come sit with us a little before going back. We are all so eager to hear about your accomplishments. How are you doing in school?” Hermione winced internally. She did not think they would be smiling like this if she told them about the detentions she was serving with the potions master, or that she had managed to lose all point Gryffindor had on the second day.

“It is going great” she said deciding to sit down just for a few minutes. “This year we will be expected to do a research project in each subject we are taking exams in.”

“That sounds wonderfully exciting” her father said. “I am sure you will put the others to shame with the in-depth, detailed, professional work you deliver.”

“I will do my best” she answered blushing.

“Make sure that you do” her father inclined his head. “We expect the best from you.”

“I did manage to convince Professor Snape to allow me to do an actual experiment instead of just theoretical literature work. He does not usually encourage that” she said with some pride.

“That is wonderful, this will give you the perfect opportunity to gain insight in the different research fields available to you and will make it easier to choose a direction for further studying” her mum smiled.

“I have a book somewhere on Applied statistic in the field of research, with a focus on reproducibility, reliability and repeatability when planning parallel experiments” her father rose from the seat, walking to one of the bookshelves. “You can borrow it, it should be useful for writing your proposal. The math is a bit advanced, but nothing you should not be able to handle.” He picked up a thick tome and handed it to her.

“Thanks, dad” she smiled, shrinking it down and pocketing it. She gave him a hug which he returned with a smile.

“You should write us more often, my dear” he said. “I know you do not have telephones there, but Chelsie calls her parents every day.” She blushed. She realised that she had been neglecting her parents more than she would like to admit it. She had been away from home for several months and she only sent them a dozen or so letters.

“Yes, we would like to have updates on how your projects are progressing” her mum agreed. “We might be able to lend a hand with the statistics.”

“I will make more time to keep in touch, I promise” she said, her face reddening. “But I really should be going, I do not want to be late for my prefect duties” she hedged. If she stayed away too much someone would notice at Hogwarts she was missing.

“That is my girl, taking her responsibilities seriously” her father hugged her. “Now keep your head down, keep far from this nonsense of a movement and focus on your studies.”

“And write us often, we miss you dear” her mum joined them in a warm group-hug. Reluctantly she extracted herself from their arms and asked Winky to bring them back to the castle.

“Can Winky now clean the house of Granger too?” the elf asked enthusiastically. Hermione though it over for a second, than remembered Dobby nearly getting Harry expelled for using magic.

“Not yet, Winky. The Ministry of Magic can track magic that is being used around muggles, but they cannot differentiate the magic of a house elf. I do not want anyone to realise that my parents have a magical visitor regularly. That could turn them into targets. But after the war when they are not in danger anymore, we can talk about this again.” Winky nodded in understanding.

“Winky will be a good elf and Winky will do her best to deserve the honour of cleaning.”

“Now, I saw it in your diary that you managed to bake a very nice lava cake. I would like to try some.”

“Winky will get best lava cake for Miss Hermione” she beamed enthusiastically and disappeared with a pop.

\---

Hermione had to wait about a week since she visited Hagrid to find out what Harry was planning with Luna. On Sunday morning, when she descended the stairs from her dormitory room to the Gryffindor common room there was a chorus of “Surprise!” greeting her.

“Happy birthday, Hermione!” Harry grinned. Most of their classmates and some of their friends from DA were there, wearing party hats that periodically exploded confetti and glitter over the room. Luna, who was standing next to Ginny and Ron was wearing a griffin headpiece, that would open it’s beak and play ‘Happy Birthday too you’ in a creaking, squeaky voice. Neville was standing with his arm around Hannah, next to Ernie and Lavender. Terry Boot, Lisa Turpin and the Patil twins were on the other side of the room and Colin Creevey kept taking pictures.

There was a huge, three-tier cake on one of the tables where she usually wrote her homework. She just hoped that there were no scrolls of parchment buried underneath. Hermione could only blink in surprise, she did not expect such a celebration.

“Come on, Hermione” Ron cajoled her. “Blow out the candles so we can have cake!” The room erupted in cheers. Apparently he wasn’t the only one interested in the treat.

“Wow, I… thank you. I don’t know what to say” she grinned walking up to the cake. She took a second to think about what to wish for, but really there was only one obvious thing. She wished that they would win the war and everyone that was important to her would come out alive and unscratched from it, or at least as much as it was possible. The eighteen candles were placed over the three tires evenly, she thought it was going to be a to blow them all out.

She drew her wand and cast a spell on herself. “ _Ventus_ ” she muttered before drawing a deep breath and blowing it all out. She exhaled and the air kept coming and coming, until she has extinguished every single candle. There was another round of cheers.

“Cake time!” Ron shouted.

“How do we cut this?” Harry asked, blinking up at the monstrosity of confectionary.

“Leave it to me” Ron said pushing his friend out of the way. He rolled up his sleeves and drew his wand. “I am the master of cutting cake!” he announced. “ _Sectio!”_ he pointed his wand at the tower of sweetness, and made a circular little motion. The cake shook and it moved itself apart, divided into neat little slices. Another chorus of cheers went up, and Ron hammered on his chest with his fits like a gorilla. Hermione giggled.

There was a bit of a commotion as most guests were trying to get themselves a slice. Harry stepped up to Hermione, and handed her a book-shaped package.

“Happy birthday, Hermione!” he pecked her on the cheeks.

“Thank you, Harry, it is so sweet” she smiled, tearing the paper. It was a tome on Practical advice on trans-species transformations. She did not even have the time to ask how he knew of her plans when Ginny threw herself in her neck.

“Happy birthday, girlfriend” she giggled, handing her a small and soft package. “You might want to open this when you are alone” she said waggling her eyebrows at her. She had a feeling she would be receiving something from the top twenty list of CosmoWitch’s sexy lingerie. She blushed.

Next she got a small potted plant from Neville that had pale purple leaves, black flowers and it was humming softly. He claimed that the berries that grew on it were good for the memory. She was surprised that Parvati gave her a small book on beauty charms and Lavender gifted her with a make-up kit. She was on friendly terms with them, but they have never exchanged gifts before. She made a mental not to get something nice for the girls for Christmas. Ron gave her a coupon for Flourish and Blotts and Luna gifted her a set of handmade jewellery. It contained a pair of earrings and a necklace, made in shades of green and blue. There were long, thin pieces of elegantly twisted plastic cascading down along them. The pieces were delicate and see-through and gave the illusion of feathers or thin silk. Hermione had a feeling they had been cut out from empty muggle soda bottles, but it was tastefully prepared and creatively done, and for Luna, the design was downright understated. She smiled at her friend and decided to put them on.

“Hey, Hermione” Harry interrupted her as she was unwarping a box of chocolate cauldrons from Dean. “An owl dropped this off for you” he handed her an envelope. She took it curiously, and pulled out a letter.

_Miss Granger,_

_Padfoot deemed it appropriate for some unfathomable reason to try to send you a bottle of Ogden’s finest for your birthday, regardless of the fact that you reside in a school full of underage children. Said bottle of alcohol will be waiting for you in my office until you leave for the holidays._

_Have a very merry but safe birthday and try not to let the others break too many rules._

_Prof. McGonagall_

She grinned and tucked the letter away in her robes. Maybe once she started her animagus project with the professor they can share a cup of whiskey with a touch of tea in it. She was brought out of her musings by the voice of Fred Weasley.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this great game is brought to you by none other, than the Weasley’ Wizarding Wheezes”

“This version comes with a box of delicious, smooth chocolate bites” George’s voice took over.

“But this product is also available in versions with whiskey-filled chocolate cauldrons, roulette rumballs and a mixture of disgustingly flavoured Bertie Bott’s every flavoured beans.” She noticed that the sound was coming from a gift box that stood open on one of the little tables.

“This game is the Hogwarts edition.”

“But it is also available in family, naughty and team-building editions.”

“All versions are guaranteed fun” said Fred again.

“Aaaand most are not safe for work.”

“HAVE FUN!” the two of them shouted the last sentence together, then there was silence. Hermione peeked into the gift box. There was a colourful cardboard box done in mostly purple that red ‘Weasley’s Wizarding Who is the most likely…? Hogwarts edition.” She removed it from the wrapping and placed it on the table. It flashed a message on all side saying: to start a game, tap the box with your wand.

“They sent you one of those?” Ron asked enviously. “They are really cool.”

“How does it work?” she asked, turning it over in her hand.

“That is a party game” Ron explained, gesturing with a fork in his hand. The other hand held a plate with three slices of cake on it. “The box asks a question, usually really silly and embarrassing ones. Like who is the most likely to glue their finger into their nostril by accident. Then you get a countdown of three seconds, after which everyone participating points at someone who they think is the most likely to do said thing. The one who gets the most fingers pointed at them has to eat a piece of chocolate in this case, but as you heard, there are other versions.” He stuffed a huge piece of cake in his mouth, and Hermione was impressed that he could chew it with his mouth closed. She was a bit worried about the type of questions Fred and George would include. “Do you want us to activate it?” he asked eagerly, then caught himself. “I mean, if you want to. It is your gift after all.”

“Party time! Let’s play!” Seamus screamed from the other side of the room, thumping his fist with a fork in it into the air. There was a chorus of cheers erupting around them.

“I think the vote is settled” she said grabbing a plate for herself before all her cake would be gone. “Anyone who wants to join, sit in a circle” she instructed and levitated a slice of what seemed to be vanilla with raspberries cake onto her plate. Her friends settled, some on little puffs and armchairs, Hannah and Neville on a couch, a few sitting on the carpet. Hermione tapped the party-game with her wand and sat back into the armchair where she had left her pile of gifts. The box flashed the first question.

“Who is the most likely to kill someone by accident? 3… 2… 1…”

“Three, two, one” her friends were counting down in a choir. When they reached zero, most fingers were pointing at Neville. He blushed a deep red.

“I haven’t exploded a cauldron in years” he protested, but accepted the piece of chocolate that floated to him from the box and stuffed it into his mouth.

“Yeah, but you haven’t had a potions lesson in years” Terry pointed it out. Neville shot him a dirty look, but his mouth was full of bonbon and could not retaliate. Hannah gave him a kiss on his red cheek. The gaming box flashed the next question.

“Who is the most likely to get an ‘I love Umbridge’ tattoo on their butts? 3… 2… 1…” This time it was Ron’s turn to protest.

“What? Are you guys all out of your minds? That is just disgusting! I would never! If I got a tattoo it would be something cool and macho. Like a pigmy puff or a butterfly” he caught the chocolate floating in front of his nose, while the others dissolved in giggles. Ron grinned. “Just kidding, I was thinking more like a pair of crossed broomsticks and snitch.” He popped the treat into his mouth with relish. He barely had time to chew before the next question showed up on the box.

“Who is the most likely to marry a celebrity? 3… 2… 1..” After the countdown all fingers were pointing at Ginny. She grinned happily.

“You remember that, Harry Potter” she joked, patting Harry’s leg possessively and ate the bonbon moving towards her. Colin has just taken another photo of them, and Hermione had to keep blinking to be able to see after the bright flash of light. It may have been her birthday, but Colin was a Harry-fan.

“Who is the most likely to get caught in the library with a PlayWizard? 3… 2… 1…” Hermione’s guess was Ron, but to her surprise most people were pointing at Seamus.

“That only happened once!” he protested, turning red and folding his arms over his chest.

“That is exactly one more time than any of us” Terry shot him a predatory smile. Hermione briefly wondered how she missed out on that story.

“Who caught you?” she asked curiously.

“Professor Flitwick” he admitted blushing slightly. “He confiscated the magazine, which is bad enough, but even worse, it wasn’t mine to begin with, so now I owe some stuff to… some people.”

“I wonder what the professor did with the magazine” Hannah giggled. Everyone looked at her surprised.

“Ewe, I am sorry, I really do not want to think of that” Parvati protested and Hermione had to agree. Their charms professor was a great teacher and a kind man, but just ewe. Hannah had some weird ideas.

Seamus took the bonbon reluctantly at first, still upset at winning the vote. “Omigod, these are good” he moaned after a few seconds, his mouth still full. Before she could have reminded him to please close his mouth, the box flashed a new question.

“Who is the most likely to get caught picking their nose in public? 3… 2… 1…” This time the votes were evenly divided between Ron and Seamus. There was a piece of chocolate floating towards both of them.

“What? I never do that!” her red-headed friend protested, throwing up his arms. Seamus just stuffed the second piece of delicacy in his mouth, looking satisfied.

“No, but you do eat with your mouth open regularly” Ginny chided him. “It is not much of an extrapolation from there.”

“It is kind of a pity Goyle isn’t here” Harry grinned. “Once I saw him flicking his boogies in Malfoy’s potion in class.” There was a collective ‘ewe’ as a response.

“Did anyone drink the potion?” Dean asked with morbid curiosity, leaning forward in his chair.

“Nah, it came out the wrong colour a few steps later and Snape vanished it. I wonder though if Snape knew what caused the wrong colour. I mean, he usually does make a point of taunting us with where we went wrong” Harry wondered, fiddling with the edge of his robe.

“Good question” Dean scratched his chin. “Also, if he does know, I wonder how he learned it.” Hermione made a mental note to ask him if she ever got the chance.

“Can we please talk about something else?” Lavender asked looking a bit green. Ron popped the treat In his mouth, chewing happily, which made a new question appear on the box.

“Who is the most likely to go skinny dipping in the Black Lake? 3… 2… 1…” Hermione voted for Lavender, but Hannah was the winner of the vote. She blushed a deep red, but reached for the chocolate with a smile.

“Everyone knows that Hufflepuffs have the most fun. And weed.” Hannah grinned catching the treat.

“Damn, I wish I was a Hufflepuff” Ron chuckled.

“Aren’t you worried about waterjompies?” Luna asked seriously. Hermione did not want to go into a discussion about the creature, but maybe one day she would look up references of the chambee and share it with her friend.

“Not particularly” Hannah answered. “Scotland is way too cold for them.” Hermione had to wonder if she believed in waterjompies or was just humouring the blond girl. “Even if I am wrong, probably Madam Pomfrey knows how to treat it, right?” Hermione had to agree to that. The matron knew how to treat petrified patients and basilisk weren’t exactly common either. Also, if a waterjompie was really a chambee, she already had the anti-bruising paste in stock.

“Good point” Luna nodded and Hannah ate the treat

“Who is the most likely to fall asleep while flying on a broom? 3… 2… 1…” Hermione knew she and Neville would be safe from this one, the two of them would be way too scared to get sleepy. Most of the votes went for Harry this time. He blinked in surprise.

“Me. Falling asleep on a broom. You must be kidding.” Harry gaped like a fish out of water. The light of the camera flashed again, and Colin probably managed to take one of the most unflattering pictures of Harry.

“You are maybe the only one other than Ginny who is good enough on a broom to be able to relax that much” Neville pointed out. The piece of chocolate kept flying against Harry’s nose, and nudging him gently. “Me, I would be terrified and screaming myself hoarse. Not exactly peaceful, falling asleep conditions.”

“Well, I guess they just voted you the best flyer, sugardoodles” Ginny teased.

“I can live with that, kittyplum” he grinned back at her eating the candy.

“Who is the most likely to date two wizards at once? 3… 2… 1…” appeared on the box. To no one’s surprise, Hannah was the winner again. She pouted as the chocolate flew to her.

“Only two? Oh, well” she grabbed the bonbon. “I will make do, but then I want two girlfriends too.” She popped the treat into her mouth and Neville turned deep red.

”Damn, Neville, now I am jealous of… oomph” Harry started saying when Ginny delicately placed her elbow in his ribs.

“Who is the most likely to read all the books in the library? 3… 2… 1…” Hermione wasn’t surprised that she won this round.

“That is Hermione, hands down” Harry said massaging his ribs.

“I only do not get why that is supposed to be insulting” Lisa Turpin added. “Reading a lot is a good thing.” Hermione fished the chocolate out of the air.

“I think maybe I should have become a Ravenclaw” she lifted the bonbon towards Lisa as if toasting her with a glass. Seamus and Ron had a point, the treats were delicious.

“Who is the most likely to help a friend bury a body? 3… 2… 1…” Hermione voted for Harry; the two of them had gone through so much together that he would probably be the least surprised that something crazy has happened. Again. To the three of them. To her surprise Ernie won the vote.

“For the record” he said grabbing the treat “I do not mind helping a friend out, but I would rather not be involved in anything with dead bodies.” He thought for a second before adding “well, except if it is Umbridge.” Everyone chuckled at that, most of them wanted to even a score with the ‘vile piece of rotund pink mignon’ as professor Snape put it.

The game went on for a bit over an hour. By the time it was over the cake had been demolished, they all missed breakfast but had a wonderful time and before she knew it was time for her to descend the stairs to the dungeon again for her “detention”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there was no Severus in this one, but I promise the next chapter will have him 100% again! I just did not want to cut that scene into pieces. :)

**Author's Note:**

> \---
> 
> Looking for a beta reader
> 
> \---  
> Comments and constructive criticism is always appreciated!


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